


Life In Pink

by youaresunlight



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Art By Deadpai, Dean/Cas Big Bang Challenge 2015, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Explicit Sexual Content, Fluff, Happy Ending, Kid Fic, M/M, Mutual Pining, Other: See Story Notes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-05
Updated: 2015-11-05
Packaged: 2018-04-30 04:43:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 25,174
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5150699
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/youaresunlight/pseuds/youaresunlight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>At just 33 years old, Dean Winchester is one of the most sought-after wedding planners in the city. He’s chased his dream ever since he was a kid and is now on the brink of making partner at his firm. But the wedding that’ll make or break his promotion? Is his best friend Dr. Castiel Novak’s. It’s going to be the event of the season - unlimited budget, no expense spared - and it’s the kind of task that Dean has been waiting for… except he’s hopelessly in love with Cas.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I am beyond excited to post my very first DCBB! It has been a real adventure and I have several individuals to acknowledge:
> 
> Thank you [Paige](http://deadpai.tumblr.com), my lovely artist, for your talent, friendship, and patience. It was a pleasure working with you and I hope we can collaborate again in the future. Your artwork is also gorgeous and fits the story incredibly well, and I can't wait for everyone to see it and shower you in well-deserved praise.
> 
> Thank you R, my best friend and beta, for your unfaltering encouragement and valuable advice. I may not have finished this without you and I'm so grateful for all of your help!
> 
> Thank you [Ana](http://preciousmish.tumblr.com) and [Angie](http://puppymish.tumblr.com), my cheerleaders, for being excited about this fic from the start. All of our crazy, caps-locked conversations gave me the push to forge through the writer's block.
> 
> Finally, thank you a million times over to everyone who reads my writing and supports my work! I hope you enjoy this one.
> 
>  **Note of warning:** Given the context of the story (i.e. Cas is engaged to someone who isn't Dean at the beginning) and the fact that the endgame is Dean/Cas, this fic contains elements of infidelity. It is an issue that's resolved by the end for all parties, but if this is a subject that you find triggering, please do protect yourself. ♥

 

**1989**

“So, Ms. Susan hired a wedding planner, ‘cause her daughter needs help with color seams.”

“Color seams?” Cas scrunches his nose. He bends forward to rest his chin in his hands. “What are those?”

“Like…” Dean drums his fingers. “Like, what colors go good together. Say, if you chose, I dunno, orange and purple, I’d tell you that they crash so you gotta pick something else.” 

Cas nods, considering this. “What other stuff does a wedding planner do?” 

Dean’s bright green eyes practically sparkle at the question, and he gestures to the magazine flipped open between them. “I just read a tiny bit,” he admits bashfully, “but there’s a lot about the dress and what kinds of flowers you buy and what sorta _cake_ to get so everyone’s happy.”

“It’s fancy,” Cas murmurs in awe, touching his finger to a three-tier cake with lavender icing. He patiently waits for Dean to scoot closer then asks, “What flavor do you think it is?” 

Dean peers over Cas’ shoulder. “Hmm. Grape, maybe? Ooh, or bubblegum! That’d be cool!” 

Cas laughs, “I don’t think that’d taste very good.” He looks at the pages again then over at Dean with a curious gaze. “What kind of cake would _you_ want, Dean?”  

“Me?” Dean points at himself. He’s only seven so he hasn’t tried many flavors. “I like strawberry shortcake… and chocolate, I guess. But you know what’d be awesome, Cas? If I could have pie.” 

Cas hums and smiles like that was the answer he expected. “Pecan pie?” he asks. 

“Mmhmm, and cherry,” Dean replies. 

“How old do you think you’ll be? When you get married?” Cas muses. 

It feels like an eternity away so Dean just shrugs, “Not before fifty.” 

“Fifty?” Cas widens his eyes. “But what’re you going to do till then?” 

“Be a wedding planner!” Dean grins widely, smiling even bigger when Cas mirrors it back. “And we’ll have more time to play if we wait that long. You can’t play anymore after you get married.” 

Cas frowns. “That doesn’t sound very fun,” he sighs, but Dean giggles and nudges his shoulder. 

“Don’t worry. We still have like, forever.” 

Cas sighs again, but adds more cheerfully, “You’re gonna be the bestest wedding planner ever.” 

“Thanks,” Dean blushes cherry-pink, feeling a bit embarrassed as he stares at the flowers. “You don’t think it’s dumb I wanna do girly stuff?” 

“It isn’t girly. Boys get married too.” 

“Yeah, but…” Dean bites his lip, recalling the disappointed huff he heard from his dad. He hadn’t been happy about Dean reading some “froufrou women’s Bible,” might’ve even told Mom not to take him to the salon with her anymore had she not scolded him to leave Dean alone. 

“I think it’s cool,” Castiel smiles, and it’s soft and pretty like the morning sky. 

Dean ducks his head, both of his cheeks still warm from the compliment. Even when he turns the page to show Cas all the different kinds of cursive you put on invitations, his face remains slightly flushed and he’s able to forget that he was feeling sad. 

“What’s the groom supposed to say to the bride?” Cas asks. “Before the old man says they can kiss?” He rolls onto his side and props himself up on one elbow, while Dean does the same so they’re facing each other, deep in thought. 

“He prolly…” Dean thinks for a moment. “He prolly promises to make her lots of sandwiches.” 

“So she won’t be hungry,” Cas nods his agreement. “How about her? What does she promise?”

“Hmm, maybe to buy him presents.”

Castiel grins. “I want mine to buy me socks.”

Dean laughs because Cas’ socks are crazy - kittens and stars and bumblebees - and whoever marries Cas better try their hardest to find for him all the pairs he likes. Dean could always tell ‘em, too, that Cas’ favorite store is the Cracker Barrel near Aunt Ellen’s diner. That’s where Cas found his Halloween socks, the ones with shiny pumpkins and fuzzy black cats. 

“He wore lots of socks and lived happily ever after,” Dean announces. 

Cas wriggles his toes, clothed in white - the teeth of a dinosaur - and moves in close until their knees bump and echoes, “And they lived happily ever after.”

 

 

**2015**  


“Cas, oh my god. I’m so sorry I’m late.” 

Dean is breathless by the time he finds his seat across from Cas, flashing an apologetic smile as he grabs Cas’ drink and takes a long gulp. “The meeting ran over and traffic was a bitch,” he groans, returning the iced tea to Cas - half-empty now - with another guilty look. “Sorry.” 

“It’s fine, Dean,” Castiel laughs. “How’s your latest bride? Bridezilla or Angel?” 

Dean scoffs. “Angelic brides are a myth, Cas.” 

“But surely, no one could resist your unparalleled taste and charm.” 

“Well, yeah, that’s true. I _am_ the best,” Dean smiles. “Wait a minute… That sounds familiar. Have you been reading my client testimonials again?”  

Cas shrugs, but his eyes are crinkled. “I just want to make sure no one’s slandering you.”

“Nerd,” Dean chides fondly. “So, what’s new with you? How are the little squirts?” 

Cas opens his mouth to reply but is interrupted by their server bringing out the food, and Dean groans despite himself at the sight of his favorite burger in the city. They’ve been patrons here for years, which is how Cas knew what to order for Dean. Of course, Cas also knows how Dean takes his coffee and what he likes in his smoothies, pastas, and sandwiches, but that’s neither here nor there and Dean’s more curious as to why Cas asked him to lunch.

“My patients are fine,” Cas finally answers, slicing into his burger with the provided steak knife. Dean never understood his need to cut up his burgers but Cas argues it actually keeps his food from falling apart. “I discharged a boy who had surgery last week and he drew a picture for me. Here, I took a photo.” 

Cas takes out his phone and thumbs at the screen before turning it around so Dean can see.

Dean immediately melts. “Aw, man, that’s cute.” It’s a crayon drawing of a boy in a leg cast with Cas standing next to him in bright blue socks. “He make fun of you for your dorky socks?” 

Cas clicks his tongue, playful and mischievous. “No, Dean. They aren’t mean like you.” 

Dean laughs and takes a bite of his burger, wipes the ketchup that oozes onto his chin. “So, ah, how come you wanted to meet today? I mean, our lunch day is usually Thursday.” 

“Right, well…” 

Cas puts down his burger and pulls a napkin from the dispenser, then spends a weirdly drawn-out minute wiping the grease from the ends of his fingers. “About that. Dean, I’m, um…” 

“Hey,” Dean sets his food down as well, suddenly nervous, his mind immediately swarming with all sorts of worst-case scenarios. “Is everything okay? Cas, are you-” 

“I’m getting married.” 

Dean blinks. Once. Twice. 

“You’re… what?” 

“I’m getting married, Dean,” Cas says slowly. “It’s… new. It happened yesterday.” 

When they were kids, Dean would walk down the block and spend every Saturday with Cas at his house. They’d pass the mornings watching cartoons and be in hysterics at the antics that unfolded onscreen. Cas particularly loved the Road Runner, how he’d always outsmart Wile E. Coyote. The traps and anvils and speed skates would enthrall them both, reel after reel. 

 _I’m getting married_.  

Cas is getting married. 

Dean’s feeling a bit like Wile E. Coyote himself, like an anvil has been dropped on his head and his world is spinning, birds and all. It’s not just the news that shocks him, although it’s enough to leave him speechless, but the fact that Cas didn’t tell him- Cas is his _best friend_ and yet-  

“I don’t…” 

Dean’s hands drop into his lap, clenching so tightly that his slacks start to wrinkle. His eyes are darting everywhere - everywhere besides Cas - who sits stock-still and infuriatingly calm like he is merely waiting for Dean’s freakout to end. 

“Who is it?” Dean finally asks, once his brain supplies that it might be an important detail. 

“Lisa,” Cas replies, the name reminding Dean of beautiful brown eyes. 

“Oh.” Dean should’ve assumed, of course. He knew that Cas and Lisa were dating. “You haven’t been- I mean, this seems… pretty sudden,” he stammers.

“I suppose so,” Cas says as he reaches for his drink. The food sits forgotten on their respective plates and Dean realizes that he isn’t hungry anymore. “Though we’ve been together for almost six months. We met before you started work on that outdoor wedding.” 

“Right. Yeah, I remember.” Anna Milton’s lavish spring wedding was the reason he hadn’t seen much of Cas since the fall. She’d married at her childhood home - under a billowy tent pitched in the backyard - and it’s always a whole other ballgame to plan a wedding around a home and not a formal venue. 

“I know I should’ve told you sooner, Dean. I’m sorry I didn’t,” Cas says earnestly. His eyes are all big and contrite and Dean can feel himself start to forgive.

“When I took Lisa out to dinner yesterday, I had no idea she was going to propose.” 

Dean lifts an eyebrow. “She asked you?” 

Castiel nods, quirking a smile, somewhat amused, entirely handsome. “I’d been thinking about our future as well, but she beat me to popping the question.” 

“That’s…” Dean braces himself, because he’s a good friend and that’s what Cas needs. “This is really great, Cas. Congratulations.” 

He can see the tension seep out of Cas’ shoulders, like he expected Dean to tell him that this is a terrible idea. That he barely knows Lisa, relative to the near-three decades he’s known Dean; that Dean has loved him as more than a friend for the past five years and he has no idea. 

“Thank you, Dean. Your blessing means a lot.”

He has no idea. Not a clue. Dean closes his eyes, then opens them. 

“Do you have a date?” he asks politely. 

Cas shakes his head. “No, Lisa mentioned something about a winter wedding but nothing’s set in stone. We’ll have to consult a wedding planner.” 

Dean’s heart drops to the pit of his stomach. 

“Who, um, who’s your wedding planner?” 

“We actually don’t have one yet, but we were wondering…” and Cas looks so damn hopeful. 

Dean paints on a smile that he thinks is pleasant, convincing enough not to cause concern. “I’ll set up an appointment. You can come in with Lisa,” he says, all while tamping down on the pain and jealousy that threaten to taint Cas’ obvious happiness.

“She better buy you socks,” he teases instead, voice a little shaky and pulse running wild when Cas smiles back, private and fond.

 

  


 

Dean’s boss is delighted by the news of the wedding. 

“Lisa Braeden!” she leans back in her fancy, ergonomic chair, eyeing Dean like he’s her absolute favorite person in the world. “Dean, the Braedens own one of _the_ largest fitness empires on the west coast. They’re not gonna spare any expense. This is _huge_ for you, do you understand?”  

Dean nods, staring down at this hands.  

“Sure, unlimited budget. The two magic words any planner wants to hear.” 

Even without looking up, he can tell she’s rolling her eyes. “I was thinking more along the lines of _becoming partner_ , Dean Winchester.” 

Dean’s head jerks up, mouth parting in surprise. “Partner?” 

“But I mean, I guess you’re right. Unlimited budgets aren’t too shabby either.” 

“ _Judith_ ,” Dean hisses, and his boss just laughs, twirling a pen through her fingers. “Partner?” he asks again, because it’s what he’s worked toward since coming to the firm. 

“Yes, Winchester, you’re an asset to this company. Despite your constant sarcasm and general air of defiance.” Judith adjusts her glasses then stares him down with one corner of her mouth turned up. “You bring in more revenue than anyone else and your reviews are also _glowing_ and there’s also the inexplicable phenomena that brides apparently love you. I need you here.”  

Any other time, they’d be bantering again, but in the face of his boss’ praise, all he can manage is, “Wow, Judith, I- Um. Thank you.” 

“No sappiness!” she snaps her fingers, waving him out with her bracelet-clad wrists. “Just plan the wedding of the season and the position’s yours. The groom’s your best friend, you said?”

And just like that, Dean deflates a little. “Yeah, um, Cas and I met when we were five.”

Judith whistles. “Well, in that case, I’m not too worried, but no fighting till after the wedding.” 

Dean sighs as he walks to the door. “No need to worry about that.”

 

  


 

He pencils in Cas and Lisa for their initial consultation the following week. He schedules it as late in the day as he can but knows that Cas will have to leave work early to make it on time. 

And as he expected, when Cas walks into their meeting on Tuesday, his hair looks messy and completely windswept like he ran across town so he wouldn’t be late. Dean thinks it’s probably because he stayed at the hospital till the last possible minute. 

Lisa, meanwhile, is perfectly put together like she stepped off a display at a department store. She gives Cas a kiss on the cheek and shakes Dean’s hand, firm and confident. Dean can tell this is her business demeanor, the one she wears when helping her parents with the company. 

“Dean, it’s good to see you again,” she smiles dazzlingly as she sits down. “I’m so relieved that you could fit us in. I would’ve wanted to work with you even if you and Cas hadn’t been friends.”

“Thanks, Lisa. I appreciate that,” Dean says, not missing the fond look that Cas directs his way. “So,” he clears his throat, “we should talk about numbers today. Try to narrow down a date and how many guests you’re planning to invite so we can move onto venues. Details come later.” 

“Sounds great,” Lisa nods, pulling out a tablet and clicking it on. Her voice is pretty, attractively husky, and Dean absently wonders if Cas thinks so too. 

“Cas told me that you might be leaning toward a winter wedding?” he asks. “Winter ceremonies can be very beautiful but the challenge is, of course, inclement weather. We wouldn’t want your guests to be stranded at airports, especially Cas’ parents who’ll be flying in from Boston.” 

“Right. I’ve just always thought that December weddings are really romantic.” Lisa reaches over and places a hand on Cas’ knee. “I’ll be fine with autumn too, if that makes more sense.” 

Dean nods and makes a note in their file. “Do you have an idea of the number of guests?” 

“Around four hundred,” Lisa replies, right as Castiel says, “We’d like to keep it small.” 

Dean pauses, pen hovering uncertainly over his pad. Cas is turning toward Lisa with a shocked expression while she lowers her iPad to twist and face him. 

“Four hundred?” Cas repeats. “Lisa, we aren’t friends with four hundred people.” 

“But my parents are,” Lisa counters. “There are business contacts they have to invite.” 

“To _our_ wedding?”  

She sighs. “I can’t just ignore their wishes, Cas. Look, the more the merrier, right?” Her eyes grow wide, a bit puppy-eyed, and Dean can see Cas wanting to argue but caving instead. 

“If that’s what you want,” he murmurs indulgently, leaning back against his chair while Lisa brightens and confirms, “Four hundred, Dean. Now, where can you put us?” 

Cas is more or less just present for the remainder of the meeting, speaking only to give his assent to his fiancée’s decisions. Dean suggests a couple of wineries in addition to the city’s botanical gardens, all of which are spacious enough for parties of a few hundred or more. 

“I can contact these places to set up tours for us,” Dean says. “Would the two of you be free next week?” 

“I’m away next week, actually,” Lisa smiles. “But I trust your guys’ judgment so just go ahead and visit them. Email me pictures.” 

“Lisa…” Dean tries not to frown. “You’re the bride. You should really be there.” 

“Well, you’re the professional,” Lisa says breezily. “You’ll know what’s best. Seriously, it’s fine.” 

She’s already standing up; the discussion’s over. “Okay, then, I’ll, um…” Dean looks to Cas. “I’ll text you the details? We could go this weekend.”

Cas smiles for the first time in an hour. “Sure, Dean. I look forward to it.”

Lisa thanks him, says she’ll be in touch as soon as she’s back, and Cas opens the door for her, leading her out with a hand on her waist. Dean watches them leave and keeps it together until his office door shuts, shrouding him in silence. He scrubs a tired hand down over his face and reaches for his phone to dial Jo.

 

  


 

“Wow,” is the first thing Jo says once Dean’s done ranting to her for five minutes straight. “Are you okay?” is the second thing she says and Dean just groans into his take-out lunch. 

“I don’t know,” he tells her honestly. “I just… I want him to be happy.” 

“I know,” Jo sighs sympathetically, “and I adore you both but you’re making yourself miserable.” 

“I could be partner,” Dean deflects, pressing his knuckles against his eyes. 

“You deserve it,” she replies and the phone line crackles as she sighs again. “Babe, you’ll have to decide if you can go through with all this wedding prep. It won’t be easy dealing with cakes and like, other romantic shit when Cas is marrying someone else, you know? It could be hell.” 

“Romantic shit?” Dean repeats helplessly. Despite everything, his mouth twitches up. 

“Shut up,” Jo laughs at him. “That’s _your_ expertise. Mine’s actually cool.”  

“Hey, now,” he warns playfully. “Remember, I worked _with_ you at your dad’s garage.” 

“Remember, I kicked your ass at replacing anything.” 

Dean laughs. She’s got him there. “Alright, alright. Touché.” He rolls his eyes but purely out of fondness and there’s an ache in his chest at how much he misses her.

As though she’s read his mind, Jo tells him “I miss you,” voice softer than before. He clutches his phone a little tighter and thinks of the summers they spent smudged in grease in Bobby’s shop. It was Jo and Ellen’s idea, mostly to get John to back off with his macho bullshit. It had only gotten worse since they lost Dean’s mom and they figured the garage would placate him some. In hindsight, it was a good decision, because Dean adored the Singers and they adored him. He also discovered that he enjoyed working on cars quite a bit and might have gone into engineering like Jo did had he not been so set on his current profession. 

“I miss you too, Jo,” he says with a smile. “I guess I’ll see you at the wedding, yeah?” 

He can tell that she’s smiling, but a little less bright than usual. “Yeah. Take care of yourself, okay? Promise me.”

Dean looks at a photo on his desk, one of him and Jo and Cas when they were in high school. Jo is standing behind them, making a duck face, her hands in their hair. Cas is mid-laugh with an arm around Dean and Dean just looks like he’s so embarrassed by them both.

“I promise,” he answers at last, though he isn’t quite sure if he believes it himself.

 

  


 

They decide to hit the wineries on Saturday morning, since they’ll be able to visit both places with just one drive down to Napa Valley. Cas picks him up around nine, in a nice blue pullover that brings out his eyes, and Dean tries his best not to blush when Castiel hugs him. “Thanks again for doing this, Dean.” 

“Of course, Cas. Who else could put up with you?” he teases, unable to keep from smiling when Cas huffs a laugh and catches his elbow. “Come on.” 

The trip isn’t too long, just a couple of hours on the road, and Dean links his phone to Cas’ car so they can listen to his go-to, classic rock playlist. 

And speaking of songs, Dean becomes curious, “Hey, um, do you and Lisa have a song?”

Cas creases his brows. “A song for what?” 

“For the reception, like for the first dance.”

“Oh,” Cas hesitates, tapping his fingertips on the wheel. “No, I guess we don’t. What do people usually pick?”

“Um, well…” Dean would be lying if he said he weren’t a little taken aback. It’s pretty normal for couples to have at least a few songs narrowed down. “‘At Last’ is definitely a classic. The last couple I worked with chose ‘The Way You Look Tonight.’ Ed Sheeran’s really popular, and so is ‘All Of Me’ by, ah, John Legend… Here, we can listen to some of them.” 

Dean switches the playlist to the one he keeps on his phone for consultations, and as the first notes of “L-O-V-E” flow through the speakers he says, “Another obvious classic.” 

Cas nods. “How about Celine Dion?” 

Dean laughs. “I’ll refrain from saying ‘cliché’ because I respect everyone’s choices, but I mean, yeah, it’s a cliché. Why, is Lisa a fan?”

Cas shakes his head, replying, “I just remember the song from _Beauty and the Beast_. Ben’s six so maybe a familiar song will be good.”  

“Oh. Right,” Dean thumbs through his songs to see if he’s got that on his cloud. “How, um, how is Ben?” He vaguely remembers Cas telling him that he first met Lisa when Ben came in with a broken wrist. An injury from Taekwondo, or may be it was Little League; Dean isn’t sure. 

“He’s a good kid,” Castiel says, a smile tucked into the crooked curl of his mouth. “He’s always going to love his dad best, but I’m hoping he’ll come to like me a little more in due time.” 

“He will,” Dean assures him, because Cas is wonderful with kids; it’s what makes him amazing at his job. 

The track changes before Cas can answer, making them both laugh with an orchestral intro they’ve both heard maybe a hundred times. It’s “La Vie En Rose” - the original version - which Cas became enamored with back in tenth grade when he had to translate the lyrics for French class. He listened to the song practically on repeat, and half the time, Dean was there too. 

“This is your song,” Dean declares. “C’mon, she’ll never forgive you if you turn your back on her now. Don’t deny it, Cas. Edith is your girl.” 

“I do love this song,” Cas agrees, already humming along and mouthing the lyrics. His voice is deeper than it used to be, when he sang the song for Dean and translated the words. Now, the French sounds like honey over gravel when Cas speaks, and makes heat spread across Dean’s cheeks, coloring them. 

“C’est lui pour moi, moi pour lui dans la vie.” Cas smiles. “That was your favorite part.” 

“W-was it?” Dean asks weakly. “I forget what all of it means.”

“It’s him for me and me for him, for life. Something like that.” Cas throws him a winsome look and if Dean weren’t sitting already, his knees would have buckled.

“So, you should, um… You should talk to Lisa. See if she likes it.”

He watches Castiel nod and when the song ends, he plays it again.

 

  


 

“What do you think of the winery?” Dean asks later. They’ve done the sampling, talked to the owners, and are taking a stroll through the gardens at their suggestion. “We wouldn’t have to worry about space and the French-style gardens go well with the song. It’ll be romantic when you have your first dance.”

He’s not entirely sure if Cas is listening when they come to a stop in front of the fountain. The sculptures are ornate - little harps and cherubs - and Cas squints at them for a second before he says, “It’ll definitely fit four hundred.” 

His tone is off, barely noticeable to someone who hasn’t known him as long as Dean. He takes a few steps closer and places his hand on Castiel’s arm.

“Cas,” he squeezes gently, trying to soothe by touch alone. “You know, at the end of the day, all that matters is you and Lisa. Whether the wedding party is big or small, as long as you two are happy, the rest just…” he waves his hand, “fades to the background.” 

Cas tilts his head, a trademark gesture he’s always made since they were ankle-biters. “You’re right, and I do understand but it’s just- It feels like the ceremony’s becoming more about other people than about us.” 

“Hmm,” Dean sighs, gazing at the chateau that rises before them. It’s almost majestic against the gorgeous, _gorgeous_ expanse of cloudless sky, and he can picture the perfect ceremony to see Cas off to the next phase of his life. It’s almost an occupational hazard, that he’s still able to visualize and conceptualize details. Even if the wedding isn’t as he’d hoped, where he’s not the one standing beside Cas.  

“A big wedding doesn’t have to be impersonal,” he says. “I can be sure to highlight details that make it about you two. You guys and Ben.”

Cas slips his hands into his pockets and turns toward Dean, breeze rustling his hair. “I showed Lisa that article you wrote for _Brides_. You gave advice on how to add a personal touch.”  

“Yeah, I did,” Dean laughs, ducking his head and scuffing his feet. “Can’t believe you remember that, Cas. That was like, two years ago.” 

“It was your first one with _Brides_. Of course I remember.”  

Dean blushes and hopes the crimson isn’t too obvious beneath the sun. “I mean, I guess Ellen and Bobby framed _their_ copy, so… you know.”  

Cas quirks an eyebrow. “I scrapbooked mine.”  

It’s delivered completely deadpan saved for the twitch along his jaw, and Dean scoffs, shoves at his shoulder, mutters “Asshole” because he can. Cas laughs, doesn’t even pretend to dodge the blow, and instead stands a little closer and says, “Lisa thought I was really knowledgeable about weddings.” 

“You?” Dean stifles a laugh. “What do you mean? Why’d she think so?” 

Cas crinkles his nose at that, giving Dean the gummy smile he loves a little too much. “Well, the first time she came over, she found the bridal magazines all over my shelves. I only have the ones with articles you’ve written but that’s still twenty or thirty… It was really amusing.” 

Dean doesn’t know whether he should laugh or blush, and what ends up coming out is an odd mix of both. Thankfully, it’s lost on Cas, who’s now fishing in his pockets for two loose coins. 

“Want to make a wish?” he puts out his palm, offering a penny that’s seen better days. 

“Don’t you have a cleaner one?” Dean feigns annoyance, but Cas just chuckles and hands him one that’s shinier on both sides. 

“Ready?” Castiel asks, before closing his eyes and curling his fingers around the coin.

Dean watches him for a moment, heart brewing storms of want and adoration. In the end, he takes a deep breath and calms himself, grips the little penny and says, “Yeah, I’m ready.”

 

  


 

Dean was only five when Cas’ family moved to Lawrence from suburban Boston, and it’s hard to pinpoint the moment he and Cas became inseparable. One day, he and his mom brought by a pie to welcome the Novaks, and then the next they were playing all the time, in the living rooms and hallways of each other’s homes. 

He does remember, however, the very day he fell in love with Cas - or, at least, when he realized his feelings and opened the floodgates to years of pining. 

It was a Thursday five years ago, and the skies had been bleak since early morning. Dean was drunk, having called in sick, and tangled up inside his sheets, angry and pitiful. Empty bottles rolled around on the floor and left behind trails that stank up the room. 

A frame lay flat on his bedside table, in which a woman was smiling and sitting behind Dean, a child at the time with huge green eyes. She held his hand, just as delicate as hers, and she had kissed his forehead afterward, telling her how much she loved him. 

“Mom…” Dean sobbed into his pillow. She was gone now, had been for twelve years. Dean could still smell the smoke, hear the wail of the fire trucks. See the ugly flames engulfing their house. 

He hadn’t meant to be alone today, as he knew from past experience that he’d become a mess if left by himself. He was supposed to be with his boyfriend, at a cabin they rented in Tahoe. He hadn’t expected to be broken up with last night, over text like some blindside attack. 

If he’d somehow known that Eric would leave him, he could’ve driven to Stanford and been withSam and Jess. He needed Sam, today more than ever, especially with Cas being so far away, on the other side of the country for his residency. 

He missed his brother, and Jess’ kind smile. He missed his mom, her tender warmth, and above all _Cas_ , whom Mary had adored like one of her own. Cas was there, the night of the fire, holding Dean as he cried and cried. Every year, if the trip was possible, Cas came to Dean so they could be together. 

He always knew exactly what to say, how to comfort Dean and make him feel like he’d be okay, that he could get through this. Dean was desperate to hear him now, just a phone call would be enough. Before he knew it, he was fumbling for his cell and pressing a thumb to the speed dial. 

As it rang, Dean buried his face into the sheets. His breaths were coming fast and the tears ran hot, seeping into the fabric. He silently begged for Cas to pick up; _please_ , _Cas_ , _I need you_. _I’m a mess without you here_. And when he heard a click, followed by Cas’ concerned “Dean? Are you okay?” he knew immediately that Cas remembered. Of course he did. Dean choked back a sob.

“Cas…” he called brokenly. “Cas, I’m… I’m sorry for… calling, but I just… I didn’t know-” 

“Hey. Dean, stop, it’s alright,” Cas soothed him. “Wait, are you alone? Where the hell is Eric?” He sounded pissed. 

“He-” Dean squeezed his eyes shut. They stung but he couldn’t find it in himself to care. “We’re not… together anymore.” 

Cas released a shaky breath. “Since when?” he asked carefully. 

“Yesterday,” Dean said with a laugh, the sound of it rough and laced in self-pity. 

“Dean, I’m so sorry. Look, are you- Could Sam-” 

“No,” Dean cut in quickly. “Don’t… Don’t make me call Sam. He doesn’t need to see me like this. Cas, don’t make me… okay? I just want…” 

“I understand. I won’t ask you to call him. What can I do? What you do n-” 

Cas’ voice cut out as another blared sharply in the background, though everything grew a little softer when Cas presumably lowered the phone to hold against his chest. There was no doubt he was getting an earful when Dean heard “Novak! Get back to the meeting!” What Cas said in reply was too muffled to decipher but placated the other enough to give Cas more time. 

“Dean? Are you still there?” 

“… Yeah,” Dean mumbled miserably, because Cas cared _so damn_ much yet here he was, doing him no favors. “I- I’ll let you go back to work, Cas. I think I’m okay now. Thanks… you know, for listening.” He could picture Cas’ little frown, his moue of disapproval at the obvious lie, but he didn’t wish to interrupt Cas’ day any further so he said goodbye and hung up the call.  

He wasn’t sure how long he stayed like that, cocooned in his bed and ignoring his phone and all calls. Except, when he woke after what felt like just a few fitful hours of sleep, the city was bathed in faint orange and he realized he’d slept through the previous day. 

Needless to say, he jumped in surprise at the sound of footsteps beyond his door. It wouldn’t be Sam, who never came without calling, and he hadn’t given Eric a copy of his key. The only person it could possibly be was Cas, but they were thousands of miles apart. 

Perhaps he was hearing things. His headache was jarring; he wouldn’t put it past his current state. Though at the sound of two, firm knocks and a softer “Dean?” outside his room, he felt his mouth drop open in shock because he could _swear_ \- He’d recognize that voice anywhere. 

“Cas?” 

The door slowly pushed open, revealing his best friend like this were some sort of dream. He saw Cas standing there, hair disheveled, his clothing rumpled beneath his trench coat. It was almost unreal to have Cas in his apartment; the distance alone was a huge hurdle for them. 

Dean stumbled as he climbed out of bed, legs feeling weak after a day of disuse. Meanwhile, Cas crossed the room in the knick of time to meet Dean and catch his inelegant fall. 

“I’ve got you,” Cas whispered gently, and that was all it took for Dean to melt into his arms. He rested his forehead on Cas’ shoulder and felt the tension start to leave his body. Cas smelled of aftershave, a little of the airplane, but it was warm and intimate and Dean leaned into it. He pressed against Castiel’s chest and let himself be held in his kind embrace. 

“What about work?” he asked, not without guilt, the first thing either of them said after a bit of silence. He knew that Cas’ chiefs never cut him any slack and had no idea how he’d managed to leave. 

“I took the first flight out,” Cas said, his tone calm and matter-of-fact. His arms were wrapped tightly around Dean’s waist and they seemed to anchor and protect him all at once. 

“But… what did you tell them?” Dean pulled back, just enough to see Cas and those fond blue eyes he’d missed so much. 

Cas smiled through his clear exhaustion, dark circles and chapped pink lips. He kept his gaze intently on Dean and replied, “I told them I had a family emergency.” 

Dean swallowed hard. “You… You said that?” 

Cas leaned in and touched his lips to the apple of Dean’s cheek, which they’d only done before for silly photos or to embarrass each other. Never for a moment such as this, where Dean had his heart right there on his sleeve. He felt raw and totally defenseless and overwhelmed by the words coming out of Cas’ mouth. 

“I did. I had to see that you were okay,” Cas said. His breath tickled across Dean’s skin in warm little puffs that made Dean flush. 

“Thanks, Cas,” he murmured quietly, curling his hands around Cas’ biceps. “You didn’t have to do this for me, but I’m… God, I’m really… glad that you did.” 

“Good,” Cas smiled against his cheek, continued to hold him like it was the most natural thing. He eventually asked if Dean was hungry and let Dean choose where to order from. 

They spent the day clad in flannel pajamas, ate pad thai on the couch and watched a marathon of _Friends_ on TBS. Cas made him stay in the living room while he rid Dean’s room of the bottles on the floor, and Dean chewed his lip out of mortification but Cas just sat down beside him and pushed a hand through Dean’s hair. It felt nice.

“When do you have to go back?” Dean asked him later that night. They were lying down face to face on Dean’s bed and Cas smiled softly, “Sunday morning.”

“Wish you didn’t have to leave…” Dean confessed a little shyly, his hand reaching out. 

Cas let Dean’s fingers wrap around his wrist and said in turn, “Wish I didn’t have to either.” 

They fell quiet as they peered at each other, green meeting blue and hand meeting wrist and he took a moment to take in every detail of Cas’ face. Those dark, unruly tufts of hair and stubbled jaw. Brilliant eyes. He’d always recognized that Cas was handsome but had never felt his heart beat so quickly at the sight of him. 

It was odd, this sudden awareness, this magnetic pull that drew him to Cas. How long had this attraction been sitting in the corner of his brain? Latent and unbeknownst to him? 

As they drifted off to sleep, Dean tried to keep the conflicting thoughts at bay. Cas was his best friend and there was no reason for the status quo to change because of today. He wouldn’t risk their exceptional friendship over a moment of weakness, surely a fleeting attraction. All he had to do was sleep it all off; he’d be thinking more clearly without the exhaustion. 

But when he opened his eyes the following morning, shielding his face from the sun streaming in, he turned his head as Cas began to stir and felt his breath hitch at the crazy-vivid blue filling his view. They’d even shifted closer throughout the night, that he was warmed by the heat that radiated from Cas’ skin. He couldn’t say a single word while Cas’ eyes adjusted to the light and focused on him, and his pulse was racing again at Cas’ smile, slow and sweet. 

“Good morning, Dean,” Cas murmured fondly, and Dean had to admit then that he was a goner.


	2. Chapter 2

** To: Dean Winchester <dwinchester@stardust.com>  
From: Lisa Braeden <lisa@braedenathletics.com> **

Hi, Dean! Hope your week’s been great. I flew back last night (still recovering from the red-eye)! 

Thanks again for taking Cas to the venues. The winery with the chateau looks incredible. I sent the photos to my parents and they definitely approve. :) 

While I was in New York, I did a little research of my own and there’s a six-week couples’ dance class that’s starting soon near your office. I know the wedding’s still months, months away but the instructor has great ratings and it’s earlier the better for this stuff, right? 

The only downside is that I can’t make it to the first class next Sunday. My parents need me in L.A. and I can’t get out of it… Could you fill in for me? 

 

“You could always try to find another class,” Dean suggests. He pinches the bridge of his nose but Lisa’s undeterred. She wants this instructor. 

“I know, and I even called the studio, Dean, but this class is booked till like the end of October. The only reason there’s an opening now is a broken engagement and yeah, that’s unfortunate and everything…” she trails off on a slight inflection, like she knows that Dean won’t say ‘no.’ The bride always makes the final call and Dean is fully aware he’ll be following along. 

“Have you told Cas?” he sighs into the phone. 

“I’ll do it right now,” Lisa chirps. “Thanks, Dean. You’re the best!”

 

  


 

Dean’s heard of Gilda before; it’s impossible not to, being in the business. She’s on his list of well-reviewed dance instructors and classes but he hasn’t been to the studio before, let alone step into a room as a student.

Gilda is sweet and evidently possesses that cheerful tone ideal for teaching. She’s also even more graceful than Dean expected and moves so delicately it’s like she’s gliding.

“There is no need to be intimidated by the waltz. I’ll guide you through breaking the dance into smaller, individual steps so that you’ll see how manageable the movements actually are.” 

It all sounds fairly reassuring, but Dean’s never taken a dance class and is sufficiently nervous. 

“I’ll apologize now for stepping on your foot,” he whispers, walking a bit closer to Cas when she tells all the ‘couples’ to come together. 

“I’ll forgive you,” Cas whispers back and Dean just… tries to ignore how _good_ he looks.  

It’s early May in San Francisco, meaning clear blue skies and temperate weather, of which Cas is apparently taking full advantage in a t-shirt and jeans that hug his athletic frame. The jeans make his legs look even longer and the shirt is grey and faded, the same one Cas wore in med school years ago. There’s a tiny rip on the edge of his sleeve that draws attention to his arms, which is not great for Dean. 

“Do you remember the Hoedown we used to have in middle school?” Cas asks. “We all had to learn to square dance and Jo cut in line so she could pair up with Ted.” 

“Oh, I remember,” Dean laughs at the memory. “You borrowed my flannel and wore overalls.”

“Good thing I grew out of them, huh?” Cas peeks down at himself then up at Dean. 

Dean moves his mouth to answer but no words come out, sticking in his throat. 

“Didn’t I give my overalls to Sam when it was his turn? He looked cute.” 

The mention of his brother helps Dean relax again because Sammy _was_ cute with his floppy hair. Still, he has a duty as an older brother to embarrass Sam, whether he’s here or not. “He also cried because Ruby made him dance with her. It’s a wonder he actually grew the balls to ask out Jess when they were in college.”  

“To be fair, he was twelve at the Hoedown and almost twenty when he met Jess.” 

“It’s not my job to be fair, Cas. That’s your job. It’s why Sammy likes you.” 

Cas huffs indulgently, unable to deny what Dean said, and then they’re separated to opposite sides of the room so Cas can learn the men’s steps while Dean learns the rest. 

When they come back together again, he’s a little less afraid about tripping on his feet, though the confidence is hard to maintain once Cas steps into his space and places a tentative hand along his waist. He also takes Dean’s right hand with his left one and waits for Dean to put his palm higher up on his shoulder. And once Gilda walks by to adjust the placement of Cas’ hand, it’s further around Dean’s waist and their chests and hips are nearly touching. 

“I, um… I’m not sure if ‘La Vie En Rose’ is in 3/4 time. Since the waltz is, you know… We want it to… match.” 

Dean knows he’s only making it weirder by being so nervous, as if this had been some longtime fantasy of his. Then again, he would be lying if he said he’d never thought about it - being held by Cas like this, in not just a friendly hug but face to face, so close… 

“Alright,” Gilda returns to the front of the room, clapping her hands. “I’m going to count out loud like I did when you practiced, except we’ll add in the music and start with the box step.” 

The movements are simple enough - just forward, back, then left and right in a fluid, boxed-in Z formation. Cas leads him easily, his hand a comforting pressure on Dean’s waist. They do quite well for the first few minutes until Dean stumbles and steps on Cas’ feet. 

“Oh, shoot! Sorry, Cas.” He clutches onto Cas’ shoulders and feels Cas’ grip tighten to catch his fall. Cas waits until he’s regained his balance then pulls him closer again, almost protective. 

“Don’t worry. I think we’re doing pretty well.” 

Dean glances at the couples around them and more than one of them are struggling, bumping into each other. “Hey, you’re right,” he murmurs smugly before turning back to Cas, whose face is barely a few inches away from his own. 

“So, um…” God, they’re stupidly close. _Keep it together_ , _Dean_. “Let’s start over?”  

“Yeah,” Cas replies, and maybe it’s just Dean’s imagination that his voice sounds rougher now. 

Cas’ fingers tap the rhythm on his side, and then they’re dancing again - even better this time. They’re both a little flustered when Gilda asks them to demonstrate to the rest of the class; it’s an incredibly odd feeling to have other couples smile at them like they’re one of their own. 

They don’t get a break for another half-hour, after which Dean makes a beeline to the wooden bench along the wall. Cas goes out into the hall to get them some water while Dean attempts to stretch the tension out of his limbs. 

“Your fiancé is dreamy,” a voice says beside him.  

Dean hadn’t even realized that there was someone else on the bench. 

She has a MacBook in her lap and giant mint headphones around her neck. Her hair is fiery red and her smile mischievous. She doesn’t really look like she’d be into waltzing. 

“Are you here with your…?” Dean gestures in the general direction of the class. He sort of hopes she doesn’t notice that he conveniently sidestepped her comment. 

“Nah,” she shuts her computer. “Just waiting for my girlfriend,” she tips her head at Gilda. Oh. 

“Awesome,” he smiles earnestly. He can already see that they make a cute couple. “I’m Dean.” 

“Charlie Bradbury.” Her smile is brilliant as she shakes his outstretched hand. 

“Nice to meet you, Charlie,” Dean leans back against the wall. “So, have you mastered the waltz since your girlfriend’s the pro or…?” 

“No way,” Charlie laughs, glancing at her shoes. “I’m awful. I’ve got two left feet.” She stops and flashes him a grin. “You guys were killin’ it though. Either of you dance?” 

“Not really, no,” Dean ducks his head. He had a feeling she’d bring it up again. 

“Yeah? What does your fiancé do?” 

“He…” Dean should tell her that Cas actually isn’t- “He’s a pediatrician.”

Charlie widens her eyes. “Dreamy _and_ good with kids? Wow, dude, you really hit the jackpot.”  

“Yeah, I guess I did.” 

He ought to be ashamed of himself.

“And yourself?” 

“I’m a wedding planner,” he says; at least he can be honest about that. He feels a spark of pride at Charlie’s impressed expression. 

“Seriously? Are you planning your own then?” 

“Um, it’s sort of a long story, but I-” 

“Dean,” and it’s Cas, holding out a cold, condensing water bottle. “I’m sorry that took a while. The vending machine was two floors down.” 

“Thanks, Cas,” Dean takes the bottle, cheeks a little pink and his words just mumbles. “Cas, this is Charlie, Gilda’s girlfriend. And, um, Charlie, this is… Cas.” 

“Charmed,” Charlie smiles, after which Cas says, “Pleasure to meet you.” 

“Dean was just telling me about his really cool job,” she continues. “I don’t think I’ve ever met a wedding planner before.” 

“Then you’ve met the best one,” Cas replies fondly, and Dean blushes when Charlie throws him another look like he’s the clear winner of the marriage lottery. 

“Is he planning yours?” she asks next, and Dean is alone in knowing that she and Cas are most definitely not the same page. 

“He is, as a matter of fact,” Cas smiles at Dean, who tries to smiles back. “We were just in Napa Valley two weeks ago to look at some venues. We decided on one of the wineries, I think. Right, Dean?” 

“Y-yeah, the one with the…” the French word he can’t recall for the life of him, “cherub fountain.” 

“Cherub fountain?” Charlie asks incredulously while Cas just laughs and Dean wishes he could kick himself.

“There was an elaborate fountain out in the gardens. Dean and I made wishes there so let’s not make fun of the cherubs.” 

“Well, that all sounds adorable,” Charlie says delightedly. “It’s really romantic to have a wedding planner plan his own wedding. That’s so cool.” 

Cas tilts his head, rightfully confused. “His… own wedding?” 

“Hey, I think break’s over!” Dean blurts, maybe a little too loud. He also stands up a bit too fast and grabs Cas’ hand, telling Charlie, “It was really great to meet you.” 

“Same to you,” Charlie says, still regarding them like they’re the cutest couple ever. 

Dean pulls Cas to where the other students are and it’s mercifully at the same time that Gilda asks them to reconvene. 

“Dean, what did Charlie mean when she said-” 

“Let’s- Not now, Cas. Please?” Dean pleads. 

Cas looks concerned, mostly for Dean, but eventually concedes and guides Dean into ballroom hold. 

The rest of class passes in a blur, and Dean murmurs some sort of reply when Charlie tells him, “See you next week!” He won’t be returning, of course, and it’s only a matter of time before she finds out the truth, which is honestly a real shame because he would’ve liked to be friends with her. 

“Should we grab a bite to eat?” Cas asks as they walk to the curb. 

Dean tinkers with the keys in his hand and stubbornly refuses to make eye contact. “Sure.”

“Dean,” Cas sighs over the roof of the Impala. “Please talk to me. What’s going on?” 

“Nothing, Cas. I’m just tired.” 

It doesn’t sound convincing even to himself, and before he knows it, Cas has come around the car to stand in front of him, hands on his shoulders. 

“It’s obviously not nothing.” 

“Look, can we just-” Dean peers at Cas, eyes prickling at their corners. “Could we just get some food? I’m fine, I swear, and the whole thing with Charlie…” 

 _That was all my fault_.  

“That was…” 

“A misunderstanding?” Cas supplies. 

Dean nods morosely. “A misunderstanding.”

 

  


 

“Lisa will be back by next week so she’ll go with you to class. You can get her up to speed.”

They’re stood outside of Dean’s apartment because Cas always insists on walking him to the door. “She won’t have to worry about catching up. Something tells me she’s really athletic.” 

Cas huffs a low laugh and leans against the doorframe. “Yes, I’m sure she’ll manage,” he says, and Dean isn’t too inclined to think about the two of them dancing together. 

“Hey, Dean, can I ask you something?” 

Dean shifts uncertainly on his feet. “Yeah, of course.” 

For a moment, Cas is quiet, like he’s trying to figure out the best way to ask whatever it is he’s got in mind. And when he finally does speak, his tone is gentle, far from accusing. 

“Dean, are you sure you’re alright with planning this wedding?” 

It takes Dean a second for the words to make sense in their intended order.

“What? Wh-why would you ask that?” 

And his answer is not so eloquent. 

“I’m not trying to imply anything,” Cas straightens and takes a step forward. “But too close for comfort is a thing that exists and I’d hate for you to feel like… like you _have_ to do this.”

“But that isn’t…”  

_How did you know_?

Cas has always had the uncanny ability to sense if something was bothering Dean. Not only when they’re together like this but also on the phone, just from the sound of his voice. 

“It isn’t… that,” he begins haltingly, because how exactly is he supposed to admit that his actual struggle is his crippling crush on his best friend. “I do want to help with this, Cas. I want- I want your wedding to be perfect. You deserve that, and I…” 

Cas’ eyes soften even more and he just looks so beautiful that Dean’s heart _aches_.  

“I’m lucky to know you,” Cas murmurs quietly, which makes Dean laugh, embarrassed and self-deprecating. 

“So, ah, we’ve established that I’m okay?” 

Cas quirks his lips. “If you say so, Dean.” 

Dean nods, fiddling with his keys again, held together by a ring that Cas bought for him after a lunch in Fisherman’s Wharf. The charm is painfully cliché, a miniature rendering of the Golden Gate Bridge, and normally he’d refuse to carry something so touristy as a local but Cas picked it out and now he loves the stupid thing. 

“Do you have anywhere to be?” Dean asks. “You should come in for a drink. I got some of that specialty, imported beer you like.” 

“You make it sound like I’m horribly high maintenance,” Cas says, but follows him in when Dean opens the door and makes himself at home like he’s done so many times before.

“You’re a doctor. I need to keep up with your fancy life,” Dean teases. 

Cas shoots him a look. “My stethoscope is covered in Dora the Explorer stickers.” 

“Because you let them, Cas. You just let them walk all over you.”

“You’d be surprised how persuasive they are when they get in the mood to paste things on me.” 

“Poor Dr. Novak,” Dean chuckles, plopping down the couch next to Cas with the beers. “What a difficult life you lead. Here, have some alcohol to ease the pain.” 

“You’re insufferable,” Cas sighs, but obligingly lifts his bottle when Dean shifts forward to clink it with his.

 

  


 

They stop after two beers each, as they both have work the following morning. Their company is enjoyable enough anyhow, and by nine, they’re tuned into some overplayed rom-com on TNT.

“Tired?” Cas asks quietly, and their arms are touching, elbow to wrist. 

Dean blames their proximity on tiredness, replying “A little” before indulging further. He takes a deep breath and presses closer to Cas, who doesn’t pull away or ask Dean what he’s doing. He simply allows Dean into his space and it’s the closest they’ve been since their class hours ago. 

In front of them, the movie plays, though the sounds fade and muddle before they reach Dean’s ears. He loses track of the passing time and a fluttery feeling settles in his stomach. It’s a firm, brave little pulse that prompts him to lessen the distance between them even more. 

Cas stills when Dean drops his head to Cas’ shoulder, and for a second Dean is terrified that he crossed a line into vastly inappropriate. They aren’t little kids anymore, are long past the age of harmless cuddling, and Dean starts to panic about his serious lapse in judgment when Cas lets out a soft noise and wraps an arm around his shoulder. 

The gesture is the last thing Dean expected, their point of contact lighting a fire under his skin. Where his cheek touches Castiel’s shoulder warms him down to his toes and he could stay like this forever, content. 

But then Cas’ fingers trace mindless patterns along his arm, all of it feeling so natural that he’s lulled into a sense of security. He’s so hopelessly gone for Cas that he wonders if this is where his life becomes like a rom-com of his own. That the last five years of pining will culminate in this, a sweet yet forbidden kiss on his couch. 

Before he can truly get lost in the reverie, Cas shifts, jostling him, and he lifts his head to give Cas more space. But Cas doesn’t move much further and they’re so damn close, faces inches apart. Dean can feel each warm exhale across his lips and he wants more, wants to be _kissed_ , wants Cas’ hands to slide to his waist and pull him close, right into his arms. He keeps his eyes wide to commit every detail to memory, and meanwhile the anticipation makes his tingling lips part of their own accord. 

“Hey,” Cas murmurs softly, and after all these years, his eyes are still bottomless and kind. The sight of them turns his nerves into nostalgia and, without pulling back, Dean asks, “Remember the summer I interned for the firm in L.A.?” 

Cas hums as he’s well acquainted with the story. “Of course.” 

“The bride I was assigned to help- She hit on me while we were choosing her calligrapher.”

Cas tightens his hold on Dean’s shoulders and Dean snuggles closer, sighing wistfully. “I kept on telling her I had a boyfriend… which, I mean, I _didn’t_ … but she wouldn’t believe me.” 

“I know. You called me at work.”

Dean smiles guiltily, blinking slowly as he looks at Cas. “I still can’t believe I did that. Abaddon gave you hell, didn’t she.” 

“She was already doing that. We were residents. She hated us anyway.” 

“Yeah, like on _Dr_. _Sexy_.”  

Castiel laughs. “Exactly like that.” 

“Thanks again, though, for pretending to be my boyfriend.” 

“You’re welcome, Dean. Feel free to stop thanking me any time.” 

“Hmm,” Dean shakes his head and Cas is staring at him, almost sentimental. It’s so alarmingly close to doting that it leaves Dean reckless, raw, and vulnerable. “I missed you a lot when you were away… When you were at med school… then in residency…” 

His voice grows dim until his words are whispered under his breath. It’s like everything hinges on the stillness somehow, and Dean wants to prolong it for as long as possible.

“Cas, I…”

He doesn’t dare shatter the quiet. 

He peers at Cas for guidance, heart beating so, so fast when he watches Cas’ gaze drop down to his lips. It takes every ounce of self-control not to lean in and lead, to just seek and touch. It feels insane to even consider that Cas might be on the same page as him - about that kiss. 

Cas looks at his lips for what feels like forever, before his eyes flick up, searching Dean’s face. It’s like he knows what’s running through Dean’s mind but hasn’t made up his own, and it drives Dean crazy. 

He licks his lips and tilts his head so that it rests on Cas’ arm again. His brain screams that he is wrong and immoral for wanting this but the ring of his racing pulse overpowers everything; it makes him selfish. 

Because now, Cas is leaning closer, stopping just shy of his lips, just a finger’s width away from Dean’s mouth. He doesn’t break eye contact and the angle is perfect, all set for more. Dean sits with his heart in his throat and his thoughts are a whirlwind of _God_ , _this is happening_.  

“Dean…” Cas breathes and it’s rough and beautiful and perfect.  

When their lips finally meet, desire cracks through Dean like lightning. 

He melts into the warm, steady pressure of Cas’ mouth, of the hands that are touching him and winding around his waist to bring him in close. Cas all but hauls Dean into his lap, making their hips bump and drawing out a whimper. Dean clings onto Cas’ arms and lets Castiel control the slide of their lips. 

“Cas,” he sighs, wet and hot, during the briefest second they pull apart to breathe. He’s already achingly hard in his pants and he rocks against Cas to show him just how much he wants this. 

“Dean. Dean, we-” 

Cas’ protest dies on his tongue, and he groans instead at the wet trail of kisses along his neck. Dean traces his hands down Cas’ chest, gliding over his firm stomach and palming his dick in his jeans. Cas grunts and twists to claim Dean’s lips with his own and Dean moans when Cas’ tongue sweeps into his mouth, eager and sure. 

“Mmph, you’re wearing too much clothes,” Dean says, fingers scrabbling at Cas’ shirt to pull it up and over his head. It’s really not many layers at all, just the single shirt with the Dartmouth seal, but to Dean it lies between him and Cas’ skin and he’s so impatient to have it against his own. “Come on, Cas, get this off-” He huffs in frustration, tugging petulantly. Cas chuckles, so low and heated, before obliging Dean and tossing the shirt aside. 

A rumble of pleasure sounds in Castiel’s chest as Dean leans in to nip and tease at his ear. His strong, naked chest feels so much better beneath Dean’s hands and then Cas switches things around as he tugs hastily on the buttons of Dean’s shirt.

 

 

“Shit,” Dean pants, feeling the hard line of Cas’ cock through the fabric. His fingers come up to tangle - more desperate than helpful - with Castiel’s and soon they’re kissing again, hungry and greedy, breaths hot and labored. 

“You have to-” Cas growls. “You have to tell me if you want to stop,” and once he’s finished with Dean’s shirt, he moves onto the zipper, which is where he stills. “Dean,” he prompts again, voice clearly strained with conflicted arousal. “Do you- Christ, will you let me-” 

“Yeah,” Dean whispers, undoing his own pants and doing the same for Cas. “Please. Cas- Take what’s yours,” he gasps, causing Cas to curse and shift them quickly so that he’s pushing Dean down against the cushions.

“ _Fuck_ , Dean,” Cas grits through his teeth, yanking down the jeans until Dean can kick them off. He comes back up to kiss the side of Dean’s neck and releases broken sounds as he digs his blunt nails into Dean’s waist. 

Dean’s breathing hitches because it’s already too good; they’ve only just begun yet the promise of Cas’ cock drives him mad. They’re still grinding against each other and Dean cants his hips, presenting himself. He wants so _badly_ to be Castiel’s and he’s ready. God, Cas needs to just-  

“I’ve… ngh, _Cas_ , thought about this so much.”  

“Yeah?” Cas gasps into his skin, his moans so soft, desperate against his neck. 

“So much,” Dean tries to kiss any part of Cas that he can reach and when Cas turns indulgently to meet his lips, Dean is reduced to a breathless mess. 

“Fuck me,” he sighs into their kiss, arms looping around Cas to hold him right where he is. “Cas, please. I want you to,” and he’s never been this _in need_ of anyone.  

Cas releases Dean’s mouth and his hair is wild, his eyes dark and lust-blown. Dean pushes one hand into that hair and tugs it lightly, biting his lip. 

“Cas?” he wrinkles his brow, fear and concern blooming in his chest.

But “Are you sure?” is what he hears next and Cas locks their eyes, tender and affectionate. 

Instead of using words, Dean kisses him again, a wrecked little whine tearing into his lungs. “I’m sure. Please, Cas, I’m sure.” _You have no idea_. Dean’s eyes flutter shut.  

“We’ll need…” Cas trails off and Dean hooks his leg behind Castiel’s thigh. 

“I’m… clean,” he says cautiously, too keen to be embarrassed as Cas’ eyes grow wide. “I mean, are you… If you are too, I-” 

“Yeah, I am.” 

Cas swallows hard and looks like he’s never been more caught off guard in his life. It’s actually kind of worrisome and Dean has to wonder if he’s broken him. 

“Cas, hey, is this…” It was too much, Dean tells himself. Cas is now having second thoughts and he’s going to leave, run out of Dean’s life. 

“I don’t want to hurt you,” Cas cuts into his thoughts, hand cupping Dean’s cheek with soothing tenderness, “and, Dean, we’re still going to need-” 

“In my room. Bedside drawer.” 

He’s oddly embarrassed by _that_ , suddenly feeling like a teenager again.

Cas smiles, just this side of amused, and gives him a kiss before pushing off the couch. Dean barely refrains from chasing his lips but soon slumps back, nervous and dazed.

The seconds tick by inside his head, and he’s convinced that his heartbeat races twice as fast. He cranes his neck to watch Cas when he hears the footsteps across the hardwood, and opens his arms to embrace him as their bodies come together again. 

“I… haven’t done this in a while. Tell me if I’m hurting you, even a little.” 

Dean presses a kiss to Cas’ shoulder and then it fully registers what he just said. “Wait, when have you done this before?” 

Cas lifts himself up with a hand on either side of Dean’s head, effectively caging him in as he bends down to mouth at his jaw. “In college,” he says between kisses. “Samandriel, in junior year.” 

“Oh,” Dean mumbles quietly. “Right. Yeah, I forgot.” He vaguely remembers him now, the small religion major with eyes like the sky. Cas called him Alfie, let him borrow his sweatshirts and hoodies. Dean hadn’t been in love with Cas then, not like this - had no drive to be jealous then. 

Cas, of course, deftly picks up on the waves he’s giving off. “Dean, it was nearly a decade ago.” He smiles and it tickles his skin and Dean squirms, wishing he weren’t so transparent.  

“Make me forget then,” he blurts out boldly, since he knows Cas isn’t one to back down from a challenge. 

Cas actually smirks, and it’s sort of crazy how hot that is. “I can do that,” he murmurs lowly and brings the lube packet to his teeth to tear it open. 

The gel drips sultrily over his fingers and he rubs them together till they’re generously coated. He then coaxes Dean with light, gentle kisses so that Dean is relaxed for the cold touch of his hand breaching his entrance. 

Dean gasps as Cas patiently opens him up, his mouth never leaving Dean’s and his other hand gripping Dean’s own. Dean moans against Castiel’s lips and his nails leave little pale crescents on Cas’ arm. His body arches sinfully off the couch as another finger flexes and bends until he whines from pleasure. 

“You’re gorgeous,” Cas says as he works his fingers deeper. His touch takes Dean apart and he lays little kisses all over Dean’s skin. “I’m not hurting you, am I?” he nips at Dean’s collarbone. 

“No,” Dean gasps. “No I’m g- Fuck, _Cas_!” His words just fade into incoherence as Cas drags his fingers across his prostate. “Cas, I- You’re gonna make- Make me come if you don’t, _fuck_ -” 

And only then does Cas pull back, scissors his fingers one last time. His chest is flushed with arousal and he bends forward again to pepper Dean’s face with kisses. 

“Are you ready?” he whispers hotly, stroking Dean’s hair, waiting for an answer. His muscles are shaking from clear restraint and Dean pulls him closer, keeps their eyes locked. 

“Yeah,” he breathes through a smile. He’s trembling too, with anticipation. Cas nods, kisses him long and deep before lining himself up and carefully pushing in. 

If Dean thought he’d fallen apart on Cas’ fingers, it’s nothing compared to the first press of Cas’ cock as it breaches him. Cas slides in excruciatingly slow, pausing for Dean to adjust, gripping Dean’s hips with a moan so soft as Dean’s body swallows him down. 

Dean feels a sting despite Cas’ prep, as eager as he is to relax. He tamps down on a whimper until Cas leans in to nuzzle his jaw, whispering, “Dean… Don’t hold back” and coaxing a mewl right out of Dean’s throat. “Are you okay?” he asks concernedly, a hand on the inside of Dean’s thigh. He rubs gentle circles into the skin there, soothing Dean and not moving quite yet. 

“I’m…” Dean breathes out a laugh, his heartbeat too loud in the room. He felt broken open and adored and pampered; it’d never been like this with anyone before. 

“Dean?” Cas’ breaths are labored, mingling with his own between their lips. 

“It’s okay,” Dean assures him. “I’m okay. Just… Just go slow.” 

Cas smiles - small, just for Dean - and pushes in further inch by inch, each thrust cautious to start. He grunts softly when his hips press flat against Dean’s body, bottoming out until Dean is _full_ and moaning from pained pleasure.  

“Dean,” Cas sighs into his neck. “God, Dean, you feel…” He trails off into a low groan and Dean can’t help the flutter in his chest. 

“So do you,” he gasps instead as Cas pulls out and shoves back in. He strokes his fingers into Cas’ hair to leave it in messy peaks that make him look maddeningly beautiful. 

He starts to push back into Cas’ thrusts, trying each time to bring him in deeper. He’s so slick and it feels incredible once Cas snaps his hips hard, again and again. “Cas!” he soon cries out when Cas shifts his angle and begins hitting his prostate. He’s so close, so close that it hurts, though he can’t seem to gather enough energy to lift a hand and bring himself off. 

“Dean, please tell me you’re close,” Cas pants, hips stuttering as his thrusts become desperate. Still, he doesn’t stop, all but pounding Dean into the couch. Bright stars burst behind Dean’s eyelids and he clutches Cas’ arms with equal desperation. 

“Yeah. _Mm_ ,” Dean writhes beneath him, eyes rolling back and mouth dropping open when Cas’ hand closes around his cock. Cas jerks him off in time with his thrusts, slamming into him and touching him relentlessly. “Cas- _Fuck_ , Cas, gonna come,” he whines while his pulse roars in his ears and Cas’ name is the only word he remembers. 

“Come on,” Cas is losing his rhythm, gasping rough - just stupidly hot. “Come for me, Dean,” he orders gruffly and lets out a groan when Dean’s legs wrap around his waist. It drags him inside as far as he can go and that’s _it_ before Dean’s muscles go taut. His spine bows as he cries and paints his skin in stripes of white, spilling over Cas’ knuckles hot and wet and _Christ_ , amazing. 

Cas strokes him until it becomes too much and he wriggles to twist away from it. But Cas just holds him, keeps him in place as he finds his release, deep inside Dean.

“Fuck,” he curses roughly, cock jerking and filling Dean with a rush of come. Dean can swear he can feel the vibrations of Cas’ groan, an assault on his oversensitive nerves and bringing tears to the corners of his eyes. 

Cas continues to grind against him and only slips out once he’s soft, raises his head to check on Dean and leans forward to kiss the wetness away. Dean winces at the emptiness but sighs happily at the soft affection, letting Cas maneuver them onto their sides and tucking his head under Cas’ chin. 

“Alright?” Cas kisses his hair, prompting Dean to snuggle in close. He collapses on Cas’ chest as an arm loops tenderly around him. 

He smiles. “Never better.”

“We ought to get cleaned up,” Cas says, but makes no move to leave the warmth they created. 

“In a bit,” Dean replies sleepily. Cas’ laugh is fond against his skin. 

Eventually, they do have to move, the couch too cramped for two to be comfortable, and it’s so much better to lie between the sheets, in Cas’ arms with their hearts beating in tandem.

 

  


 

Dean hadn’t had the presence of mind to set his alarm the previous night, but it’s thanks to his usual rhythm that he wakes up the next morning two hours before work. He rubs his eyes and turns onto his back, a moan escaping his lips. It is then that he realizes the room is very quiet, and that the bed is cold all to his left.

“Cas…?” he calls into the air, but there’s no reply save for the hum of his heater. He figures Cas is already fixing breakfast, as they’ve been to each other’s apartments enough to know where the sugar and creamers are - and everything else for that matter. 

His backside aches as expected when he sits up and swings his legs off the bed. He slips on a shirt strewn over his dresser and grabs his favorite sweatpants with the frayed drawstrings. As soon as he reaches the door, he catches the tired voice floating behind it. It’s just one side of a conversation but he can tell right away who’s speaking on the other. 

“… No, I’m at Dean’s.” 

“It wasn’t-” 

“Lis, I’m not going to wake Dean up so you can ask him what really happened. I’ve been- No, I said I’m still… I’m leaving for work in a bit.” 

“Lisa-” 

“… Yes. Fine. Let’s talk later.” 

It isn’t like he means to eavesdrop, but the wave of guilt roots him to his spot. He hadn’t felt it acutely enough when he was being kissed and held and adored and- 

“Dean.” 

“Hey, Cas,” before he realizes it, Dean’s stepped out of his room to stand in the living room. Face to face with Cas for the first time since they fell asleep together last night. 

Cas is already dressed in yesterday’s clothes, holding his phone, his gaze tracking Dean. The air is tense with unspoken words and then Cas is moving, grabbing his jacket. 

“I put on some coffee,” he says like it’s nothing, like there isn’t a giant elephant in the room. But when he pauses on his way past Dean to the door, his fingers flex as though he’s resisting the urge to touch, to reach out to Dean. 

“Cas,” Dean murmurs unsurely, vulnerable all over again. He hates how Cas isn’t looking at him, how things are awkward for the first time in nearly thirty years that they’ve been friends. 

“I’ll call you,” Cas interrupts, his voice so soft for how firm he sounds, and when he does spare Dean a glance, his expression is pained - a maelstrom of emotion. “I’m sorry, it’s just… I should be getting to work,” he sighs, “and ah, fix things with…” He trails off, eyes drifting to the foyer.

“Right… No, I don’t mean to keep you,” says Dean, berating himself for thinking that last night might lead to breakfast. Pancakes and coffee, perhaps. Playing footsie under the table. He and Cas with their fingers entwined and Cas telling him, ‘Dean, I was wrong. It’s been you all along.’ 

What’s insane is that he’s still _wishing_ for it, even after the door clicks shut and Cas isn’t there, having gone back to Lisa. Of course, Dean should’ve known that yesterday was too good to be true, but it doesn’t stop him from staring at the couch where Cas had stolen his heart again.


	3. Chapter 3

Cas doesn’t call, or simply forgot. Neither scenario offers Dean any comfort. 

They don’t even get a chance to talk until Lisa asks Dean to come to the dance class. It’s their third week and he tries every excuse under the sun to avoid going but she insists on his advice because they haven’t yet chosen a song. 

“I thought you’d agreed on ‘La Vie En Rose’?” 

Lisa makes a little noise like she’s rolling her eyes. “Yeah, Cas may have brought it up. But it’s just too old-fashioned, and a bit… I don’t know, kind of pretentious? I mean, sure, it’s romantic and all but I want something that won’t require an English translation.” 

Dean tucks the phone between his ear and shoulder so he can simultaneously browse invitation designs. “You’ve talked to Cas about this?” 

Lisa laughs and he can picture her nodding. 

“Yup, and he said it’s fine. He doesn’t think it’d be right for the wedding.” 

“How come?” Dean is curious, because that wasn’t the case when they heard it in the car. 

“Mm, I’m not totally sure but he said that the song wouldn’t really fit us? Which is completely fine with me. It’s about time we were on the same page.” 

Dean stares blankly at his iMac and he can’t quite tell if he’s looking at marbled or matte. The song wouldn’t really fit them? What did that mean? What did Cas mean? 

“Dean?” Lisa prompts, nudging Dean right out of his thoughts. 

“Hmm? Oh, um… Yeah, just tell me the songs you like and I’ll have them on Sunday for you two to try. We’ll see how they work with the dance.” 

“Sounds great,” Lisa says cheerfully. “Dean, you really are the best.”

Dean manages a strained laugh since he doesn’t trust himself to speak. His face heats up at the still-vivid memories as he mumbles goodbye, resenting his heart.

 

  


 

Cas arrives on Sunday looking devastatingly handsome - because of course he does.

Such is Dean’s life.

He’s a little late, having come directly from the airport, still in the button-down he wore to his conference with the shirtsleeves rolled up to his elbows. Dean can see the coiled muscles in his forearms, the tanned skin a nice contrast to the fabric. A single glance at those stunning blue eyes and Dean just knows it’s going to be a long afternoon. 

He isn’t sure if it’s better or worse that he doesn’t have to participate, but he stands in the back and watches Lisa find her place in Cas’ arms. 

“Hey, Dean,” says a soft, familiar voice to his left. It belongs to Charlie and Dean finds himself unable to meet her gaze. 

“Hi,” he mumbles, embarrassed. “Um. Charlie, right?” 

Her headphones are yellow today and they remind him of lemon buttercream. 

“Yeah,” she smiles kindly, something knowing settled into its curve. She probably doesn’t mean to heighten his guilt yet he feels self-conscious regardless. 

“So…” Dean begins awkwardly. 

“So,” Charlie crosses her legs, looking a tad apologetic herself. “I have a terrible habit of getting carried away. Guess that’s sorta what happened last time.” 

She’s trying to make it her fault so Dean puts a stop to it, shaking his head. “No, it’s- I should’ve corrected you. I know I should have, but it’s just…” 

Charlie gently squeezes his shoulder.  

“It’s okay. I think I understand.” 

Dean looks up and is certain that his eyes are wide and pained, mirroring his emotions. “I’m not usually so dishonest.” 

Charlie clicks her tongue, as if brushing off the comment. “Hey, I don’t think that you are. I was just surprised to meet Lisa is all. I mean, I thought… Well, you and Cas are so…” 

Dean blushes. “We’ve been friends for a long time.”

Her expression becomes sympathetic and there’s a comforting hand on his knee. “And you’re alright with planning his wedding? I know we hardly know each other, Dean, but I can tell that you really love him.” 

The corners of his eyes begin to prickle and Dean steels himself so he won’t break down. Has he been so obvious with his affections? So much that a stranger could see he’s besotted? It’s jarring to feel this open after hiding it so well for years.

After a moment, Charlie asks, “Do you think you’ll… say anything?” 

Dean thinks of how desperately he’d clung to Cas that night and a laugh escapes him, low and harsh. “I think he might already know.” 

Charlie’s hand is still on his knee and it’s odd how soothing that is. She’s right - they don’t know each other - yet the ease is similar to what he has with Jo. 

“I see dozens of couples every week,” she starts, “and that Sunday, when I met the two of you? I just assumed you were together because… I dunno, it seemed inevitable. And I realize this is all unsolicited and Gilda always says I shouldn’t stick my nose in other people’s business, but- But Dean, this is clearly difficult for you and- You should take care of yourself. Protect your heart.” 

_Protect my heart_ , Dean muses sadly, wondering whether that’s possible when his armor’s been stripped from him, leaving him bare.

 

  


 

The next two weeks pass by in a blur and Lisa’s around more to help with the plans. They meet frequently to go over details from the flowers down to the silverware. Dean is unsure if the rise in involvement has to do with the argument they had that Sunday. For all he knows, they made up since then and it’s full speed ahead for their wedding preparations.

Invitations go out in June, thick, cream-colored card stock adorned with ribbon. Bows made of shimmery, gold-tinted silk that fall delicately over their names.

“Dude, I’m sort of insulted I found out through the mail,” Sam huffs, his tone more teasing than vexed. “I’m guessing you’ve known for months now? So, doesn’t that like, make me an insider?”

After all these years, Sam still manages to sound like a pouty teenager when it comes to Dean, but Dean indulges him too so, really, the blame’s to be equally shared. “I know, I know, I’m sorry. It’s just been kind of crazy. Big wedding and all.” 

“Nah, it’s cool,” Sam says with a laugh. “You’re probably busier than Cas is right now.” 

That coaxes an unexpected chuckle out of Dean, because it’s true and kind of ironic that he’s more occupied with the wedding than the groom is. 

“So, you’ve met Lisa,” Sam hums over the line. “What’s she like? Pretty awesome, I bet.” 

“Yeah,” Dean answers weakly, recalling Lisa’s vivacity and wit and wealth. “They’ve only dated for half-a-year but Cas wouldn’t be marrying her if he weren’t sure.” 

Cas isn’t one to make his decisions lightly, their night together being an exception. It becomes clearer with each passing day that it was a mistake, just a one-night stand.  

Or at least, it was for Cas. 

“Well, don’t let her put too much on your plate,” Sam says. “You’ll need to save some energy for the bachelor party.” 

“Oh,” Dean blinks at his computer. The groomsmen; he’d almost forgot. He’d been so busy with Lisa’s bridesmaid drama that it had escaped him to check on Cas. He already has Castiel’s list of groomsmen, but hasn’t asked who Cas picked for Best Man. Or rather, he’s too afraid to ask, as it’s fairly certain who it will be. 

“Well, just give me a call if you need any help… with… stuff.” 

Which, despite everything, makes Dean laugh because he can picture Sam flailing in his office. “Help with what? The flower arrangements?” 

“You’re such a jerk, Dean. I’m hanging up.” 

“‘Kay, Sammy,” Dean crinkles his eyes. “Don’t forget to tell Jess that she’s out of your league.” 

“Ugh,” groans Sam, his trademark as a younger brother. “She already knows,” he adds with an eye roll that Dean can’t see but hear in his voice. 

“Good,” Dean grins into the phone. “Well, I gotta go. I have an appointment soon.” 

“Alright. Remember to eat and sleep and do yoga.” 

Dean scoffs, “Yeah, never again,” and has to endure Sam laughing at him.

 

  


 

The following day when Lisa comes in is the first time Dean’s seen her upset. She’s usually so composed and level-headed that it’s a total surprise to see her this way.

“Is everything okay?” he asks cautiously, combing through details they could’ve gotten wrong. Nothing comes to mind - Lisa’s just as perfectionist as he is - and he patiently waits for her to speak, chalking the change up to stress than anything else. 

“We had a disagreement,” she finally says, and the words almost echo in the painful silence. 

Normally, he’d crank into troubleshooting mode, but today, he finds that harder to do. Instead, he inquires, “About the wedding?” It’s not unusual for couples to argue. 

“No,” she leans back in her chair. “I asked if he’d like to head up my family’s foundation.” 

The Braedens are known for funding physical education in low-income districts and Dean can’t help but widen his eyes because a position like that- “That’s some opportunity.” 

“Our focus is elementary schools and he’s a pediatrician. It’s a perfect fit. I hadn’t brought it up before but I did last night and…” she trails with a sigh. 

“He didn’t think it was a perfect fit.” Dean can easily guess the reason why. “Lisa, Cas will never agree to giving up his practice.” 

Lisa meets his eyes with an expression that indicates she’s unsurprised. “I don’t get it. He’s an ambitious guy, and we’ve got candidates lined up the block, _wanting_ this.”  

Dean tightens the grip on his pen. “He’s a pediatric orthopedic surgeon. Most people would call that ambitious enough. Go with a candidate who actually wants it because Cas won’t be happy unless he’s working with patients.” 

The defense comes out in a rush and he doesn’t mean to become all breathless. But he’s heard Cas talk about pediatrics since they were nineteen and it’s rubbing him wrong that Cas’ fiancée is anything less than proud of Cas. 

“And anyway,” he adds more calmly, “I really don’t think I should be getting involved.” 

That comment makes Lisa smile, except it’s all wrong and her eyes grow cold. “No, you’re right. It was my mistake for coming to you. I should’ve guessed how you’d react, given how close the two of you are.” 

Dean swallows, tries not to look nervous. “What does that have to do with anything?” 

“Oh, everything,” Lisa waves a hand. “There just isn’t room for anyone else.” 

Dean wrinkles his forehead at that because he’s heard the comment before, from a girl named April back in high school who was fed up with how often Cas cancelled on her. “You’re _always_ together,” she complained, looking like she might brandish a blade at him at any second. “You know it’s weird, right? How close you are? You don’t even leave room for a third wheel.”  

Now, staring at Lisa, Dean wonders if he’s been gone for Cas much longer than he’d previously realized. “Lisa,” he begins carefully, “I’m- I don’t want to cause any trouble. I’m just here to help plan your guys’ wedding, whether or not I’m Cas’… best friend.” 

He feels guilty all over again but it’s not like there’ll ever be a repeat of his night with Cas. He’s now accepted that fact and decided to focus his attention on his job. Making partner. 

He must sound earnest enough because Lisa sighs, softer this time. “Yeah, I know. It’s just the stress… I’m usually much nicer, I promise.” 

“I believe you,” Dean smiles small, feeling the tension seep out of the room. They spend the rest of their time talking about cakes, and how to reach a compromise between pecan and coconut.

 

  


 

Dean knew he couldn’t avoid Castiel forever, and the next time they see each other is at a local farmer’s market to look at the flowers. Lisa’s with her bridesmaids, trying on dresses, leaving it to Dean to accompany Cas. He meets him by the confiture stand, several rows of Mason jars in a rainbow of warm, primary colors.

“Hey, Dean,” Cas greets first, wearing jeans and a soft-looking t-shirt that Dean sort of wants to bury his face in. Dean follows Castiel’s movements as he makes an abortive gesture, reaching out to Dean, only to hold back at the very last second with the intensity still in his gaze. 

“Cas,” Dean murmurs quietly, so much to say yet unable to voice them. “Should we, ah, head to the florists?” He ends up saying nothing at all. 

He doesn’t trust himself to talk about anything besides orchids and roses, so he charges on, all facts and meanings, barely leaving room for a chance to breathe. “Calla lilies come in ivory and burgundy, which’d be good for a wedding in November. They symbolize magnificent beauty and I can order miniatures for the bouquet and boutonniere. And, um, ranunculus works really great too. They’re related to the buttercup. See how it’s multi-petaled? My last bride wanted these for her bouquet because, in the language of flowers, they mean ‘I am dazzled by your charms.’ And then there’s also-” 

“Dean,” Cas interrupts, gently turning Dean away from the bench of hydrangeas. His hand stays curled around Dean’s elbow while their eyes lock above, focused wholly on each other. 

“What is it?” Dean asks quietly, cradling the folder in his arms a little tighter. 

Cas seems hesitant, but doesn’t look away as he asks, “Can we talk about what happened that night?” 

“What about it?” Dean mumbles back, perhaps sounding more defensive than he had intended. But his emotions are a myriad of hurt and whatever Cas says next could very well crush him. 

Cas, too, seems to understand this fragility; it’s obvious he’s ruminating the words in his mind. When he speaks, voice soothing and low, his tone and soft eyes leave Dean quite defenseless. 

Cas’ hair ruffles slightly in the breeze and his gaze is tender as he takes a step forward. “Dean, I’m so sorry if I made you feel… It was wrong of me to not come see you sooner.” 

Dean ducks his head to stare at his feet. “Don’t worry about it, Cas. I know you’re busy.” 

Cas makes a sound that just the two of them can hear, like he’s been dealt a physical blow but is trying to tame it, contain it in his chest. He tremors with frustration, directed toward himself rather than Dean, and the tick in his sharp, stubbled jaw reveals just how upset he is by Dean’s quick surrender. 

“That’s no excuse, Dean,” he insists, fingers stretching at his sides. “Could- Will you please look at me?” and how could Dean not when he sounds like that. Does Cas even realize the effect he has? 

“Cas,” he slowly complies, lifting his eyes as his world turns blue. Cas is standing so close, with adoration on his face, but Dean knows it’s not the kind he’s seeking, the kind that will grant him dinners and cuddling on the couch. 

“You don’t have to apologize, okay? Marriage is a huge commitment, it’s- I mean, it’s normal for you to freak out. I see it all the time with my clients and for you, I just… I happened to be there. But I’m actually relieved that it was me, you know? I won’t tell a soul, I swear.” 

Cas stiffens the longer Dean talks, searching Dean’s face for signs of a punchline. When there’s none, he takes a step back, the mere few inches feeling like miles between them. 

“Is that what you think?” he asks incredulously, his expression blank and revealing nothing, and Dean, speechless again, can only watch as he worries his lip. 

 _No_ , he thinks desperately. _But I’m trying to let you go_.   

He’s about to open his mouth, to somehow convince Cas that he meant what he said, and then a hand touches his shoulder, accompanied by a voice he hasn’t heard in years. 

“Dean?” the not-stranger calls, and Dean grits his teeth because he can’t believe this. Not that anyone ever accused his life of running smoothly at all but when it comes to inopportune run-ins, this one takes the cake. 

“Wow,” Eric says with a laugh. “It’s been… what, five years now?” 

“Yeah,” Dean sighs a little while Cas goes still, jaw clenching again. 

“Right,” Eric shifts on his feet, scrubbing a hand over his mouth and chin. It’s nearly crippling how awkward it is but it’s to be expected with how things ended. “So,” he turns to Dean’s right. “You and Cas, huh? Can’t say I’m surprised.” 

“Surprised?” Cas asks before Dean has a chance to blush, and through the faint tingling in his nerves he can feel Cas’ hand on the small of his back. 

Eric glances between the two of them, expression increasingly knowing. “Well… yeah? I figured it was only a matter of time before you-”

“Eric, I don’t think-” 

“A matter of time before what?” 

“Nothing,” Dean cuts in, because he can’t let this happen again. Not correcting Charlie was one thing, but Cas is right here; it could ruin everything. “Um, Cas and I should probably get going. I still need to show him the…” He gestures vaguely toward the flowers and silently hopes for this conversation to end. “Eric, it was- I’m glad you’re doing well.”  

Cas hasn’t budged from his spot beside Dean and Eric clears his throat, having realized that he made some kind of mistake. “Hey, wait, I didn’t mean… Dean, don’t leave yet. I meant to call.” 

That draws an exasperated huff from Dean’s lips. The last thing he wants to remember is Eric’s text and that rainy Wednesday. “It was a long time ago, Eric, and it’s not like you called to break up with me in the first place.” 

“I know. I _know_ , I was an ass, but I-” 

There’s a flash of fiery blue as Cas steps forward, glaring at Eric. “You broke up with Dean over _text_?” and it’s more of a growl than anything else. “Did you have any idea of what he was going through? That he might’ve needed you to be with him that week?” The sheer vexation lining his outburst causes Eric to flinch and stare back agape.  

“Look, man, I don’t know what you’re talking about. Dean never mentioned-” Eric lets out a sigh. “This is why we didn’t work, alright? I just saw it before either of you did.” 

“Saw what,” Cas squints at him distrustfully, mouth still set in a firm, hard line. Dean falls into a panic at where this is headed, but Eric continues before Dean can interrupt. 

“I mean, c’mon, who was I kidding. Dean may have been dating me, but he was _in love_ with you, and once I figured it out, it was like… I was young. It messed with my pride. So, I lashed out like a jerk and Dean, I’m sorry if I ever hurt you but it wasn’t me that you belonged with. I think deep down, you knew that already.”  

Cas has gone very, very still - face pale, mouth slack with shock. Dean wants to bury his face in his hands and disappear forever. This is _exactly_ what he’d hoped to avoid and now it’s too late.  

“I think you better go,” he hears Cas say, followed by Eric’s low grunt of agreement.

There’s no goodbye, no handshake, nothing before they part ways and he’s left alone with Cas. 

“I’m sorry,” he mumbles morosely, fingers fisting in the fabric of his jeans. “That- Eric was just…” he blinks. “Never mind, we should check out the other-” 

“ _Dean_ , forget the flowers for a minute,” Cas says, reaching out to cradle Dean’s wrist as though Dean might run if he were to let go. “You can’t expect me to ignore this… You also didn’t tell me things had ended that way with him.” The last part is murmured lowly, all concerned and gravel-rough, and Dean has a flashback to the morning five years ago when Cas had shown up just to be there for him. 

“You would’ve worried,” he argues weakly, “and you had enough on your plate.” 

“That never stopped you from worrying about me,” Cas says, and Dean feels the heat rise up to his cheeks. 

“I was fine though, eventually. We bummed around together, you know, like old times.”

Cas laughs, finally smiling again. “I think I needed that weekend just as much as you did.” 

It takes Dean a moment to realize that Cas is still holding onto him, warm and sure. He doesn’t make any effort to pull away because it’s really the only thing that’s grounding him right now. Still, it’s rather clear that Cas wants to ask him about the other thing, so Dean deflects him first by asking, “What are your plans after this?” 

It prompts Cas to glance at the flowers. “After the lilies? Not much at all.” He pauses then adds with a smile, “Should we get dinner? It’s almost six.” 

“That place on Kearny?” Dean suggests in turn, knowing Cas would recognize their usual place. “I could really use a drink if you’re up for it too,” because the restaurant has a pretty great bar. 

If Cas is curious about what Eric said - and he probably is, given his tenacity - he’s indulgent of Dean’s distractions and thankfully doesn’t ask during dinner or drinks. Instead, they talk about Sam, and how Jess just got promoted at work. They talk about Jo and her new boyfriend Ash and how this one better treat her right. Somehow, after meandering between nostalgia and the latest news, they find their way to Lisa and the job she had offered Cas. Even through the buzz slightly clouding his mind, Dean senses the displeasure coming off of Cas in waves. 

“That was an unpleasant conversation,” Cas says, and only Cas could speak so clearly after all the beer he just tossed back. His tolerance once made Dean jealous, and apparently scared all the brothers in his fraternity, but right now he’s in distress and Dean lifts his hand to touch Cas’ shoulder.

“She meant well,” he says honestly, because that much was obvious from his meeting with her. “And you’d be great for a position like that… but you love your work. You love working with your rug-rats.” 

Cas looks at him like he’s grateful that Dean understands, as if it hadn’t been like this since he and Dean were five-year-olds running around. “That’s what I told her,” he quirks his lips. “I think she’s disappointed but I’m just as stubborn as her.” 

“Yeah, I know,” Dean rolls his eyes, “but that’s good. I mean, you shouldn’t have to compromise on your job.” 

Cas hums, “Did she mention this to you?” 

“She might have,” Dean crinkles his nose. He doesn’t even register what face he’s making until Cas watches him fondly, like he’s someone worth looking at. 

“I think,” Dean clears his throat, tearing his eyes away and propping his chin in one hand. “Let’s just get another round of… what was it called?” His speech slurs on the last three words, which makes Cas chuckle and shake his head. 

“No more for us,” he announces firmly, ignoring Dean’s protest as he settles their tab. He takes a French fry off his plate and offers it to Dean in lieu of more alcohol. 

“You’re no fun,” Dean says with a huff, though he lets Cas tug him off the stool to the floor. He’s a little unsteady at first but Cas is there to help, to hold his arm. 

“Come on,” Cas murmurs softly, still audible over the chatter of patrons. He stays close as they weave by their tables and walk out the door into the cool summer night.

“Think you should drive,” Dean fishes for his keys, only to recall that they’d brought Cas’ car, not his. He’s maybe embarrassed as he opens his door but Cas just smiles and walks around to his own side. Once they’re both in the car with their seat belts clasped, Dean tells him, “Thanks for, you know… today.” Cas peers at him with one hand resting on the wheel and replies, “Of course” before he starts the ignition. 

As they make their way back to his apartment, Dean feels his eyelids start to droop from pure, amassed exhaustion. The drinks are surely having an effect on him as well but he’s not drifting off quite yet as he turns his head to sneak a look at Cas. 

The streetlights seem to dance across his face, gliding over his cheekbones and lighting up his eyes even in the dark. His shirt’s a bit rumpled and so is his hair; Dean wishes he could thread his fingers through it. It’d be soft yet sticking up in every which way and it’s honestly ridiculous how his heart decides to clench at something like that. 

And that’s the problem, that his heart simply refuses to listen. It continues to love Cas all on its own, beating and reacting to Cas’ presence. His brain has caught up to reason - Cas is getting married and that night was a mistake - but there goes his heart, as it has for the last… however many years. The more that Dean mulls it over, the more he’s sure that he’s loved Cas for longer than he thought. 

The ride to his place is quiet, perhaps because Cas thinks that he’s fallen asleep. He closes his eyes when the car slows down, and pretends to wake at Cas’ gentle nudge.

“I can go in myself,” he says, though Cas has already wrapped an arm around his shoulders. 

“You’re going to want some Advil in the morning,” says Cas. “I’ll leave some out for you before I head back.”

Maybe it’s the way Cas says that, in that low, lullaby-tender tone of his, or how natural this all is like they fit together and always have. It makes a rush of emotion zip through Dean’s body, too much for him to contain in his current state. By the time Cas deposits him carefully on his bed, Dean’s succumbed to the alcohol and disparaging thoughts. 

“Cas?” he calls helplessly, feeling the mattress dip a little beside him. 

“Yes, Dean,” he hears Cas reply and then the dam just shatters, breaking from the pressure built behind it. 

“Cas. Cas…” Dean slumps against him, limbs heavy and loose and sluggish. He sighs wetly into Cas’ neck as the words escape through his lips. 

“I wish… I wish you’d love me back.”

Cas stills, as if in shock, while Dean starts tremble from how raw he feels. 

“Why don’t y-you love me?” he chokes back a sob, though the tears are already smudging onto Cas’ skin. They’re on Cas’ collarbone, seeping into his shirt, and they somehow sting back like the salt is being rubbed into an open wound. 

“I love you. I’ve… I love you. Eric was right. I’m not sure for h-how long but I love…” 

Dean clings on with all he has, barely notices Cas moving to lay him on his back. His vision is blurry through his tears and lashes but he keeps talking like it’s impossible to stop. 

“It hurts when I’m- Now, it hurts whenever I’m with you. It fucking _hurts_ to love you, Cas. Why does it hurt? Why do I have to hurt?”  

His throat feels scratchy and parched; he can hear it in his voice, how broken he sounds. He can vaguely feel Cas rearranging the sheets, pulling the comforter over his chest. He gets up, presumably to grab some water and Advil like he said, but Dean jerks and reaches for him, nails blunt and blindly grazing his skin. “Cas,” he whispers hoarsely, rubbing his eyes with the hand not holding Cas. Concerned blue eyes meet his dazed ones but despite everything, Dean knows exactly what he wants. 

“Can you… Could you kiss me?”

“Dean,” Castiel sighs, and this is it. This will be the last time.

“Please?” Dean looks right at him, pouring everything he has into the plea. 

“Dean…” Cas murmurs again, but this time it sounds rough like he’s fighting against it. He puts his hands on either side of Dean’s face, and leans down to kiss him so gentle and soft. So soft that it breaks Dean’s fucking heart how he’s being held and treated like treasure. It isn’t by any means heated or a precursor to sex, but rather desperate and sensual and filled with regret. 

“I’m sorry,” Cas breathes across his lips. “I’m sorry, Dean, I wish… I wish I’d… _Fuck_. I’m so sorry.”  

Dean doesn’t know how long he hears them, Cas’ apologies, their shaky breath, but everything is silent when he wakes the next day and it’s all over. He escapes into sleep.

 

  


 

“How’s the Braeden wedding?” Judith asks on Monday, coming into Dean’s office and making herself at home.

Dean glances up from the file he was reading - another client he took on today. He figures with Cas’ wedding well underway he has the time for an increased workload. 

“It’s coming together,” he answers calmly. “The framework is almost set.” 

“Good,” she replies, looking pleased. “I’ve been hearing great things from the bride.” 

It’s normal for Judith to check in with the brides, just to make sure all the planners are doing their work. It used to bother him, like he couldn’t be trusted without extra supervision, but he never had problems with anyone anyway so it’s really affirmation that he’s good at his job. 

“I’m lucky she’s not a Bridezilla.” 

Judith sighs; she hates that term. She’s a firm believer that any Bridezilla is a frazzled bride who just needs a planner. “And what about the groom? How’s he doing?”

Dean feels himself tense but quickly lets it pass.  

“Fine,” he stares at his pen. “Not too keen on the details but what groom is.”

“True,” Judith hums, crossing her legs as she observes him. “But big weddings can be pretty overwhelming. I hope your friend isn’t getting cold feet.” 

That evokes a flash of Cas gently framing his face and Dean bites his lip, trying hard to tame his blush in front of his boss. The unspoken cardinal rule is to never fall in love with the bride or groom, and if she found out that he broke it with Cas - blasted it to smithereens, really - he would undoubtedly get fired and he can’t lose Cas and lose this too. 

“I’m sure he isn’t,” he manages to say, and Judith seems placated enough to move on. It isn’t like she meant it seriously anyhow and Dean relaxes, crisis averted.

 

  


 

It’s easier to bury himself in work, in emails and questions and details. Do peonies go well with hydrangeas and should teal be paired with white or grey, and it’s less than four months till Cas’ wedding when Lisa calls to ask about photos.

“I did get some childhood ones, but I thought you might have some from high school on?”

Dean glances at the frame on the corner of his desk before he swivels in his chair to stare out the window. “Yeah, I can look,” he replies helpfully. “I’ve got an album or two back at my place.” 

“Perfect,” Lisa says with relief. “I couldn’t really ask Cas since it’s a surprise.” 

“You said it’s a video?” Dean confirms, to which she answers, “Yup, to play at the reception. I’ll scan the pictures and return them to you. I just need them for like an hour or so.” 

“Sure, would you like them on Friday? That’s when we’re meeting for the cake tasting.” 

“Yeah, sounds great,” she says, and he asks, “Anything else you need me to do?” 

Lisa laughs and it’s soft and tired. “No, I’m good. Just… trying to stay on top of things.” 

“Well, if there’s anyone you’d prefer not to deal with, give me a call. I’ll talk to your florist.” 

“Ugh, my _florist_ ,” Lisa groans across the line. “My mom picked her. What a walking nightmare.” 

“At least her arrangements are some of the best?” 

Lisa sighs. “Right, I guess they are.” 

Once they hang up, it’s time for Dean to leave the office and head on home. He stops along the way to pick up some groceries and says hi to Benny whose diner’s next door. Back home, Dean puts away his purchases - a carton of milk and a few, decent-quality microwavable meals - and when he’s changed into a tee and sweatpants, he putters over to the shelves where his albums are. They’re organized by content and year because shut up, excuse him for being organized. It isn’t difficult to find the pictures he needs; there are probably hundreds of just him and Cas. 

Him and Cas at Sam’s graduations, from kindergarten all the way through law school. Him and Cas at their own graduations with Cas’ arm slung over his shoulder. Then some from his trip to Dartmouth to visit Cas during medical school. Cas smiling crookedly in dark green scrubs after Dean insisted on capturing the moment. “Where’re the cowboy boots?” he’d teased with a grin, and Cas just laughed, shaking his head. “I’m not a doctor yet,” he reminded Dean, “but I hear I’ll receive a pair when I get my degree.” 

Him and Cas on a road trip to Boulder where Jo first lived after getting her B.E. She’s in Seattle now, designing actual _planes_ , and there are photos of the three of them grinning on Alki Beach. Dozens upon dozens of pictures, some clearer and better-framed than others. Some blurry and terribly lit where they’re obviously too buzzed to hold the camera right. Some where Cas looms close to the foreground and Dean is in the back, making ridiculous faces. Some from that yoga retreat down in Big Sur where Sam and Cas are beaming while he was probably crying. 

Then there are the Polaroids his mom took years ago, an entire album of tinted mementos. Him and Cas holding hands by the school bus. At an Easter egg hunt with matching white ears. At a Little League game where Dean scored a home run and at the science fair where Cas won First.

 

 

Dean’s overwhelmed by the sheer volume of memories, the emotions that rush back with them. He can’t imagine his life without Cas, whether that be his past, present, or future. And suddenly, Dean finds himself frightened, because what will he do once the wedding’s over? He’s been so preoccupied with planning the _event_ that he hasn’t really thought about all that comes after. All the things he wanted with Cas - housewarming dinners, quiet nights in, lazy weekend mornings where they lounge in bed. Cas will have all that and more with Lisa, and where will Dean be?  

How will he bear it? 

As if in a daze, he sets everything aside, letting an album fall open on the floor. He doesn’t even bother to change before grabbing his keys and walking out the door, his motions automatic. 

Without traffic to bog him down, he gets to Palo Alto in half an hour. He’s on his brother’s porch as the sun begins to set, and tries not to tremble as he rings the doorbell. 

He lifts his eyes when the door swings inward, throat choking up as soon as he sees her. “Jess, I… Can I come in?” He’s pulled inside before he says anything more. 

“Dean,” Jess hugs him tight, one of her hands rubbing circles on his back. “What’s wrong?” she murmurs gently while Dean just stands there, lets himself be held. 

“What am I gonna do?” he breathes into her hair. “God, Jess, I- I love him so much.” 

“… Who?” she asks in a whisper, her tone unsurprised as though she already knows.  

It’s like the weight melts off of Dean’s shoulders when he sobs out “Cas” and hears a soft, “Oh, Dean.” She makes soothing sounds as he leans against her and it’s kind of a wonder that she’s holding him up. “Hey. Shh, it’s alright. Let’s wait in the den, okay? Sam just went to the store.”  

Jess curls her fingers around his wrist to lead him through the foyer and past the kitchen. She sits him down on their huge navy couch where he drops his head into both of his hands. 

That’s how Sam finds him ten, maybe twenty minutes later, a Home Depot bag in one hand, the other touching Dean and squeezing his arm. “What’s going on?” he asks Dean quietly, no doubt having heard the lowdown from Jess. “What did Cas do?” he adds more sternly and Dean turns to face him, eyes wide and wet. 

“Nothing,” he shakes his head. “Cas didn’t do anything.” _And that’s what’s wrong_. “Sam… Sam, I _love_ him,” and Dean’s expression crumbles along with the confession.  

Plastic hits and crinkles on the floor and then Sam is there, arms wrapping around him. “Dean, I didn’t think… I didn’t want- Man, I’m so sorry.” 

“Didn’t want what?” Dean mumbles back and feels a low huff rumble out of Sam’s chest. 

“I always hoped you’d get together. I never wanted you to miss each other like this.” 

“… Always?” he asks, incredulous, shifting away to stare at his brother. 

“Yeah,” Sam smiles sadly. “Well, I guess… ever since high school.” 

“How- Why didn’t you say anything?” 

Sam shrugs defeatedly. “Would you have listened?” 

Would he have listened, all those years ago, seeing Cas date without really comprehending the flicks of anger lingering in his nerves.  

“… No,” he slumps against the cushions. “No, ‘cause I’m a goddamn idiot.” 

“You are _not_ ,” his brother insists, and his immediate defensiveness makes the corner of Dean’s mouth lift up. 

They sit in silence for a while, until Jess comes back with three cups of tea. He curls his palms around the mug and feels the warmth seep into his skin. 

Eventually, Jess speaks first. “Are you planning to… talk to him at all?” 

“I don’t know,” he cradles his drink, watching the steam rise in thin wisps above it. “We haven’t seen each other since… Well, since I told him, a couple weeks ago.” He can practically hear the other two’s surprise, but it somehow encourages him to admit to the kiss. He explains how he can’t picture his life without Cas, how he can’t even _remember_ what it was like before Cas. It’d be impossible not to see him, to watch him build a life together with Lisa.   

Sam listens, chewing his lip, sharing a look with Jess before turning back to Dean. 

“I think you should talk to him, Dean. He needs to know what’s going through your mind.” 

“But what’s the point?” Dean argues tiredly. “Cas made it clear that he doesn’t…” _Want me_.  

“Really?” Jess asks softly. “It didn’t sound like he did. He just said he was sorry.” 

“There’s a difference,” Sam chimes in, “and come on, Dean, he’s your _best_ _friend_. It’s bothering you now, right? Keeping this from him?”  

Of course, Sam, being as perceptive as he is, is absolutely right that Dean hates not telling Cas things. He’s so used to sharing everything that this is all new, the secrets and hiding. But he’s not sure if that’s impetus enough to go running to Cas, confronting him again. 

“It could ruin everything. He might end up hating me.” 

Sam smiles and nudges his arm. “Or, you know, it might fix everything.”

“I couldn’t do that to Lisa. You should see her at our meetings, Sam. The wedding’s just a few months away and-” 

“And she should marry somebody who loves her.” 

Dean can’t fathom Sam’s unfaltering confidence, how he can be so sure that Cas loves Dean in the same way that Dean loves him. “Sleep on it,” Sam says, before leaving the den to see to the guest room. Jess gives him another hug and he’s left in a whirlwind of warring emotions. 


	4. Chapter 4

Cas calls twice before the tasting on Friday, both of which Dean misses from being in consults. When he calls back a few hours later, Cas is either in surgery or it goes straight to voicemail. 

**Dean Winchester (1:39 pm):** hey  
**Dean Winchester (1:39 pm):** sorry i missed your call again  
**Dean Winchester (1:40 pm):** what’s up?

He drums his fingers on his knee. 

**Cas Novak (2:02 pm):** Hi, Dean. Are you free to talk?

Dean glances at the clock on the wall. 

 **Dean Winchester (2:03 pm):** not for a bit.. i’m at the bakery  
**Cas Novak (2:04 pm):** Tiers of Joy?  
**Dean Winchester (2:04 pm):** cake a diem actually

He can’t help the pull of his lips. Cas is no stranger to local bakeries thanks to him.

**Cas Novak (2:05 pm):** At least it isn’t For Goodness Cakes.  

Dean groans. 

**Dean Winchester (2:05 pm):** or the bun also rises

He can imagine a gruff, amused laugh and a part of him aches with how much he misses Cas. 

 **Cas Novak (2:06 pm):** True.  
**Cas Novak (2:06 pm):** I miss that place.  
**Dean Winchester (2:07 pm):** i do too believe it or not

Dean smiles ruefully down at his phone and when he looks up, he catches Lisa walking in hand in hand with her son. 

 **Dean Winchester (2:08 pm):** i need to go  
**Dean Winchester (2:08 pm):** let’s talk later?  
**Cas Novak (2:08 pm):** Of course.  
**Cas Novak (2:09 pm):** Dinner this week? 

He doesn’t get a chance to reply because Lisa spots him from across the shop. She waves and weaves around the displays until they’re face to face, Ben by her side. “Hey,” she smiles brightly before she pauses, tilting her chin up. “Wait,” she sing-songs teasingly. “I know that look. Who’s the guy?”

“Hmm?” Dean feels himself blush, which only serves to incriminate him further. Lisa grins, eyes lighting up, and says, “Come on, Dean. Who’s makin’ you blush?” 

“No one.” He clears his throat, then adds, “Just a friend,” because it’s true. 

Lisa hums, clearly dissatisfied, but she’s tactful and decides not to pry. “Okay, fine, but I’m onto you, Dean,” she jokes, and Dean would’ve smacked his head against the wall if it weren’t for the baker’s assistant calling Lisa back for their appointment. 

She hadn’t mentioned that she’d be bringing Ben, who bounces on the chair in his AC/DC shirt. Interesting choice for a first grader, Dean thinks, but he respects that. Kid’s got good taste. 

As expected, he’s the most excited out of everyone to try the cakes, and Lisa is sweet with him, asking his opinion on every comparison. It takes a bit but they narrow it down to red velvet and butter pecan. The baker’s explaining that they could keep both when Lisa gets a phone call and has to step out.  

“So, Ben,” Dean smiles kindly, “are you excited to be ring bearer?”

“I guess,” Ben shrugs at him. “I don’t wanna wear the suit but Mom says I have to.” 

“Yeah, I get that,” Dean agrees. “Why can’t people get married in pajamas, huh?” 

That makes Ben grin wide, all teeth and pink tongue sticking out. “That’d be awesome! Can we do that?” he exclaims, which makes Dean feel a little guilty for putting the idea in his head. 

“Sorry, buddy,” he says regretfully. “I think we have to go with tuxes and dresses this time. Your mom will be happy in her gown, though, and you and Cas will have your suits.” 

“But it won’t be _as_ great as pajamas.”  

Dean laughs. “Yeah, can’t argue with that.” 

Ben nods as he eyes the half-eaten plates of mini cakes, then peeks at the door through which Lisa had gone out. He grabs the leftover poundcake, whose crumbs land all over his shirt. He’s got his cheeks puffed up like a chipmunk when he asks, “Why is Cas marrying my mom?” 

The question makes Dean pause as he’s reaching over to brush the cake crumbs away. “Well, I know when two people get married, it’s because they love each other.” 

Ben keeps their gaze as he chews, slow and thoughtful, processing this, wipes his mouth with the back of his hand before staring at Dean, all bright brown eyes. 

“Do you think my mom loves Cas?” 

Dean blinks. “Sure, why do you ask?” 

Ben shrugs again, dropping his eyes. “‘Cause I don’t think she does,” he mumbles sadly. 

“Hey,” Dean shifts a bit closer. “Don’t… How come you think that?” 

Ben lifts his eyes to meet Dean’s own and they’re as wide and worried as a child’s could be. “I… I just don’t think she like-likes him. She loves Dad. She still loves my _dad_.”  

Dean’s heard about Lisa’s ex-husband; she’d mentioned him some time ago. They were college sweethearts who married too young and got divorced when Ben was one. Lisa said that they’d remained friends, that Ethan wanted to stay in Ben’s life no matter what. He and Ben were very close despite the physical distance between them. 

It’s understandable that Ben would want his biological parents back together. 

“I’m sure she does love your Dad,” Dean says, “but it’s alright if she loves Cas too. That doesn’t mean she loves your dad any less, just that you’ll have another person to care for you like they already do.” 

“Cas is nice,” Ben insists. “He’s really cool and takes me to museums, and the park too if I ask.” He stares at his hands once more. “But I want Mom to marry Dad again.”

Dean’s not an expert in this department at all, but half-raising Sam has taught him how to stay composed with an upset kid. “Did she tell you she wants to, Ben? To marry your Dad?” he asks. 

Ben shakes his head, face growing anxious. “No, but I heard her call him. Yesterday.” 

“That’s not unusual, is it? She and your dad are still good friends.”

“If they like each other, why aren’t they married anymore?” 

Ben’s eyes are a bit watery now, and it reminds Dean of the time he had to explain to Sam why their Grandma Campbell had gone away. 

He reaches out to ruffle Ben’s hair, something that always helped to calm Sam down - until the kid became a teen, that is, but Ben is young enough to appreciate the affection. “You know,” he begins to explain, “sometimes, two people can really, really like each other, but then realize that they’re happier as friends than a couple. And sometimes, it takes a little time for two people to figure out which kind works better.” 

Ben picks at a slice of cake and wrinkles his nose, deep in thought. “Sorta like an experiment?” he asks curiously, and Dean chuckles at the childlike visual. 

“Yeah, I guess so. Sort of like that. I mean, a scientist wants the experiment to work, right?” 

“Uh huh,” Ben nods seriously. 

Dean smiles, “Well, a couple can _really_ try hard to be happy together, but sometimes it doesn’t work out. Your parents love you very, very much and I hope you never forget that, okay?”  

“Okay,” the boy smiles back, nearly breaking Dean’s heart with how tentative it is. But once the door opens and Lisa walks in, Ben brightens and launches out of his chair.

“Everything alright?” she asks, surprised, wrapping both arms her son’s small shoulders. They make eye contact over Ben’s head but Dean nods reassuringly and she relaxes. 

“Work call?” he switches the topic, watching the two take their seats again. 

It’s then that he notices her cheeks are pink, and she stammers out, “Something like that.” 

He raises his eyebrow but doesn’t seek to ask, and Ben interrupts them right then anyhow. He slides the red velvet toward his mom and murmurs, “I like this one” as she kisses his forehead.

 

  


 

Once he parts ways with Lisa and Ben, Dean takes out his phone to text Cas back. Yet another delayed reply and he pulls an apologetic face though Cas can’t see him.

**Dean Winchester (4:14 pm):** hi sure dinner sounds good  
**Cas Novak (4:19 pm):** Great. How did the tasting go?  

It’s clear that Lisa hadn’t mentioned the appointment and Dean’s finger hovers over his screen.

**Dean Winchester (4:20 pm):** fine  
**Dean Winchester (4:20 pm):** lisa chose red velvet and butter pecan  
**Dean Winchester (4:21 pm):** the baker said he’ll make each layer a different flavor 

He sees the ellipses pop up in the window and it stays like that for a minute. 

 **Cas Novak (4:23 pm):** I wasn’t aware that it was today.  
**Cas Novak (4:23 pm):** But we’re meeting for dinner tonight.  
**Dean Winchester (4:24 pm):** i’m sure she’ll tell you about it then  
**Cas Novak (4:24 pm):** Yes. How’s Sunday for us? 

Dean’s lips curve up in a smile; Cas’ mom always invited him and Sam to dinner on Sundays. Itbecame tradition after Mom passed and whenever Dad’s work took him away on weekends. He remembers fancy, succulent roasts that Dr. Novak senior would carve for them. 

 **Dean Winchester (4:25 pm):** sunday’s good  
**Dean Winchester (4:25 pm):** like old times  
**Cas Novak (4:26 pm):** Pick a place and let me know.

This is accompanied by two smiley faces and a knife and fork emoji. 

Dean already knows where he would choose; he’s been craving burgers all week. Cas ran every day to keep trim but he’d done his fair share of running around. One bacon cheeseburger could never hurt… well, that and fries and maybe a milkshake.

 

 

The next day is the first in a while that Dean spends at home, catching up on emails and phone calls that don’t have to do with venues or printers or flowers. He pops in _Dr_. _Sexy_ \- season four, his favorite one - before plopping down with his computer, both legs stretched out in front.

There’s an email from Sam asking if he wants to check out the film festival next month, plus an addendum of ‘How are things?’ that’s obviously referring to the deal with Cas. Dean chooses to overlook that particular question and replies with a yes to the festival. He’ll hear about it again for sure but Sam’s tactful enough to let him be for now. 

He checks his Facebook, which he rarely does nowadays, Likes Jo’s new profile photo and logs out then back into Instagram. This account, he updates more often; it’s easier to navigate than Pinterest. Plus, it sort of comes with the territory of being around a pretty, pastel palette all the time. 

Benny’s uploaded a couple of photos - dishes he’s serving in his diner. Dean shamelessly sighs at a sinful-looking burger while thinking to himself, ‘Cas would like that.’ It’s not even a thought he wills himself to have, but rather an almost-reflex from their years of friendship. 

He realizes that having a Cas-shaped hole in his life would be worse than having to watch Cas become somebody else’s husband. He’s come to terms with this important fact since his talk with Sam and Jess last week, and recalling it makes him melancholy, makes him want to head to Benny’s and eat most of his feelings. 

He glances down at his sweats and wonders if there’s any chance of running into Judith on the street. But then she probably wouldn’t recognize him, bereft of his tie and ironed everything, so he says “Screw it” and opens his closet to tug his heather grey hoodie off its hanger. 

His hair is a mess, Dean knows, the wrinkles on his shirt rumpling the print. He barely spares a peek at his reflection in the mirror, though, and reaches for his keys on the hook by the door. 

The hallway is empty, a typical Saturday; he half-heartedly wonders where everyone’s gone. He doesn’t stop walking till he’s standing by the elevators at the end, watching the numbers go up and up, the bell dinging when it stops at nine. 

He brings his eyes down, about to step forward, and nearly bumps into the person who dashes out. He’s hit with a whiff of familiar aftershave as he staggers back and a hand steadies him. 

“Cas?” he finally asks, once he regains his balance and his brain catches up. His eyes widen at Cas’ appearance, both cheeks pink with apparent exertion. “Why are you…?” 

“I ran here,” Cas says calmly - as calmly as he can through his ragged breath. 

“You _ran_ here?” Dean asks, bewildered. “What happened to your car? Oh, god, are you hurt?”  

“No,” Cas shakes his head, “but parking is impossible outside of your building. I have to tell you something, Dean. I couldn’t wait till tomorrow, I-” 

“Okay,” Dean interrupts gently, touching his palm to Cas’ chest. The pulse is racing underneath the sweat-damp shirt that Cas has on and Dean looks up, searching his face for clues to what he’s about to say. “Let’s go in,” Dean tips his head toward his apartment. “I’ve still got some of that, um, tea mulch you like. I haven’t… touched it since you drank it last.” 

But when he lowers his hand to pull Cas with him, Cas just stands there, looking resolute. Dean feels nervous like hasn’t before and breaks their contact, biting his lip. 

“Cas…” he murmurs uncertainly. “What’s going on? Is everything okay?” 

Both of them keep their gaze, Cas more intently so. Dean waits in a state of almost unbearable tension before Cas reaches for him and pulls him close, natural as anything, like they fit. 

“I’m not marrying Lisa,” he says, breath warm and stirring Dean’s hair. 

Everything blanks and crashes and whirs and Dean can’t _think_ , chest squeezing tight. “What?” he asks helplessly. “Wh-what do you mean?” He must’ve heard wrong. 

Cas’ lips are at Dean’s temple, every syllable a small, sweet kiss. “Last night, we went to dinner and… Dean, I couldn’t. I had to tell her.” 

Dean stays silent, his heart beating jackrabbit fast. _I had to_. Castiel had to. He lets out a shaky breath at what that could possibly mean.  

Cas holds him tighter, smiles into his skin, and what he confesses next has Dean gasping from unadulterated awe. 

“I never thought you’d love me back,” he says low and in awe himself. “It took me years to even try to move on and… God, Dean, I can’t believe…” 

“… You love me?” Dean’s mind is scrambling, convinced that Cas is mistaken or, better yet, that this is all a wonderful dream. 

But then, without missing a beat, Cas says “More than anything” and entwines their fingers, so real and true and _magical_ and Dean shakes his head, blinking back tears. “But. Lisa. Is she…?”  

“She’s good. We talked all night. She went home an hour ago.” Cas pulls back, fingers brushing Dean’s hair back in place before cradling his face, soft yet sure. “Lis and I… care for each other, but I’m not the one she needs and, as for me…” he smiles fondly. 

Dean feels hot to the tips of his ears and he places a hand over Cas’ on his face. 

“So, that night… It wasn’t a mistake?” he asks, watching Cas’ face crumple like it pains him that Dean would even think so. 

“Never,” Cas eases a thumb over his cheek. “Dean, I’m so sorry I led you to believe that.” 

Warmth expands inside Dean’s chest, giving him the urge to pout just a little. “You have a lot to apologize for,” he says, which makes Cas laugh and lean in to kiss the sharp turn of his jaw. 

“Give me some time and I promise to make it up to you,” Cas says. Dean smiles because he hears a promise of forever in there too.

 

  


 

“How come you didn’t say anything, Cas?” Dean asks later when they’re on the couch. His head is tucked beneath Cas’ chin, his body curled in the crook of Cas’ arm. “I mean, not that I’m not… any less guilty,” he adds, releasing a sigh with his eyes downcast. He stares at where their free hands are tangled together and brushes his thumb over Cas’ knuckle.

“I was…” Cas trails off, as though it’s difficult to find the right words he’s looking for. Only after Dean squeezes his hand and presses in closer as reassurance does Cas confess “I was afraid” and drop a kiss on top of Dean’s head. 

“Afraid of what?” Dean stills in surprise. Even after all these years, it’s difficult to imagine that Cas would be afraid of anything. He was the one who took Dean to the nurse when he fell on the playground and scraped his knee; the one who dove in first when Dean was scared to swim in the lake; who held Dean’s hand at Haunted Houses; who held _Dean_ on the terrible days. Cas had been his rock for as long as Dean can remember, and Dean can’t quite imagine what could make his best friend falter.  

Cas smiles when Dean looks up, leans in to touch his lips to the top of Dean’s brow. “I thought you didn’t love me back,” which is so absurd that Dean nearly gasps.

“Cas…” he begins, a little breathless. “I’ve loved- It’s been _years_.”  

“Years?” Cas says incredulously. “Dean, I… Since high school?” 

At that, Dean has to pull back, make sure that their eyes are locked once more. “You’ve… liked me that long?” 

“Loved,” Cas corrects him with a kiss. 

Dean lets himself melt against Cas, because he can and never wants to stop. It’s the first time that they’re kissing without it being something to hide, to feel guilty for, and there’s a lightness in his body that’s completely freeing. Incredible. 

“It was Jo’s birthday,” Cas cradles his face. “We were baking a cake for her. Do you remember?” 

“Oh my god,” Dean laughs at the memory. Cas had switched on the mixer, the speed set to high, and it’d been like a sprinkler on the lawn. “There was flour everywhere.” 

“It got all over us,” Cas laughs too, pushing his fingers through Dean’s hair. “And we just looked at each other in shock then couldn’t stop laughing for an hour.”

“I know, it was great,” Dean grins. “But geez, Cas, I was skinny and awkward.” 

And Cas, with that blush-inducing earnestness of his, tells Dean so sincerely, “Well, I… You were beautiful.” 

Dean ducks his head at the compliment, still unaccustomed to accepting praise concerning his looks, that say he’s pretty. Dad had always made it clear that Dean’s full lips and huge doll eyes only served to fuel his disappointment. Then again, it’s different with Cas, and Dean knows this deep down in his heart. That Cas calling him ‘beautiful’ refers to _all_ of him, not just what’s seen on the outside.  

“You were standing there,” Cas continues, “with flour on the bridge of your nose and you broke into this _smile_ and… You were radiant.” He doesn’t let Dean shy away, holds onto Dean’s hand as he keeps their gaze. “I realized then that I was in love with you, and I thought I’d lose you if I said anything… I tried to move on, but it- I guess it’s obvious that none of it worked.”  

“I guess,” Dean smiles back, pink-cheeked and happy and breathless again.  

“I wasn’t sure, after that night… if it’d meant for you what it had meant to me. And I was getting married, I was so confused. Everything I did seemed to mess things up.” Cas’ smile droops as he speaks, and Dean shifts forward to kiss the corner of it. Watching it quirk back up from the gesture alone sends a wave of giddiness down through his body. 

“It meant everything,” he murmurs softly. 

“Yeah?” Cas kisses his forehead. 

“Mm,” Dean nods sheepishly, “and I thought… I thought you wanted it to be a one-time thing.” 

“God,” Cas shakes his head. “I’m an idiot. I apologize, Dean.” 

Dean curls his hands in Cas’ shirt and drags him in, eyes crinkled and fond. “That makes two of us,” he laughs. “I think that means we’re perfect together.”

 

  


 

Lisa calls early next morning, minutes before Dean dials her himself. She sounds unexpectedly light and happy, and doesn’t let Dean apologize for breaking her engagement.

“You know, I was so _sick_ of everyone asking me if I planned on getting remarried. They said it’d be good for Ben, to give him a dad to actually grow up with. And then I met Cas who shut all of them up and I think I relished that, having people be jealous. I wanted to hang onto that when I asked him to marry me, but now I realize… It’s just not what we’re meant to be.”  

“Lisa, I’m…” Dean starts to say, only to trail off when he’s at a loss for words. What could he say besides the fact that he’s sorry? That he hopes she’s okay? That Ben’s alright? 

“I cared too much about what other people thought,” Lisa laughs. “I almost married an amazing guy who’s also totally wrong for me.” 

Dean picks at a loose thread in his slacks. “Have you, um… told Ben?” 

“Yeah,” Lisa replies. “We’re flying out to Philly first thing tomorrow.” 

“Philly? Isn’t that where…?” 

“Where his dad lives. It’s been a few months.” Her voice becomes softer, somewhat wistful and nostalgic. “I’ve talked with Ethan a lot lately, and… I don’t know, maybe we spoke too soon about us being better apart.” 

He can hear the hopefulness in her tone as he says, “Ben must be excited to see him again.” 

“Oh, believe me, he’s bouncing off the walls.” 

Dean laughs, genuinely relieved that they’re okay. “I hope you guys figure things out. I can take care of everything, so just make sure that Ben gets a cheesesteak.”

“Will do,” Lisa hums back, then adds, “Thanks, Dean, and I know you’ll make Cas very happy.” 

Dean smiles down at his hand, the one Cas had held for most of the night. 

“Thanks. He makes me happy too.”

 

 

“These came out nice,” Cas smiles beside him, eyes following the length of Dean’s finger as it glides across their reception menu. The blue, mint, and white in the borders were colors he and Cas had chosen together, and Dean knew that entrusting Donna would lead to a design he was satisfied with.

“You like it?” he holds it up, wanting to check again, just to be safe. 

Cas laughs and kisses his temple. “Yeah, I do. I think it looks great.”

“Good,” Dean says happily before setting the copy on the bedside table. He turns back to relax against the headboard and rests his head on Castiel’s shoulder.

“Hey, Sam called, by the way,” Cas says. “He’s having a bachelor party crisis because Jo keeps insisting on penis straws.”

Dean snorts. “Yeah, good luck on dissuading her from that.”

Cas loops an arm around him. “I told Sam the same thing.” 

“Plus, we gave him the vegetarian option,” Dean leans into Cas’ chest. “So, Jo gets to have her straws and why isn’t she _my_ Best Man again?”  

“Because you love Sam and you’ve been wanting him to be your Best Man since he was born.” 

“Damn,” Dean feigns annoyance. “What else do you know about me, huh?” 

“Quite a bit, actually,” Cas smiles.

In an attempt to hide the heat on his face, Dean ducks his head, tries to change the subject. “You know, Dad would’ve had a few choice words about the menu. His idea of being vegetarian is ordering a side salad.” He’d wanted it to sound like a joke, but there’s a sad edge to the laugh that bubbles out, because while Cas’ parents have treated him and Sam like the two other sons they never had, it’s not easy knowing that his dad is still there, alone in Lawrence. 

“We could invite him,” Cas pulls him closer. “It isn’t too late, Dean. Just say the word.” 

“No,” Dean shakes his head, burying his face in Cas’ shirt. He inhales the familiar, fresh-laundry smell, and sighs, “No, I don’t want him there.” He feels Cas nod, gentle and understanding, and a wave of comfort washes over him. The same comfort that has always allowed him to be vulnerable with Cas, and right now it compels him to say, “I just wish Mom could’ve been here.” 

The room is quiet for a drawn-out moment, then Cas replies, “I miss her too.” He holds Dean tight through the tears that fall and assures him again and again, “Dean, I’ve got you.” 

They make love slowly that night, cherishing every sound and every reverent touch of skin. He almost feels overwhelmed by the way Cas looks at him, open and fond. 

“I love you,” Dean says with a blush, his shyness incongruous with the fact that he’s rocking back and forth, sinking down on Cas’ cock. He doesn’t have a chance to dwell on that long, as Cas tugs him forward to press their lips together all warm and sweet. “I love you,” he breathes in awe, and moans softly when Cas’ hands slide to his hips to steady him. 

“I love you too,” Cas murmurs back, voice rough as he reaches for Dean’s hand. He kisses his fingertips and tells Dean how wonderful, amazing he is, and when they come, minutes apart, it feels like his world is splitting in pieces and coming together all at once.

 

  


 

“Is the A/V ready?” Dean calls to his assistant. “There’s nothing blocking the view?”

“We’re good,” Tessa taps on her tablet, “and before you ask, I already had the crew triple-check the sound system.” 

Dean grins. “I’m that obvious, huh?” 

She rolls her eyes. “You’re a perfectionist.”

He turns to a table lined with boutonnieres, alongside a basket of pale pink petals. “I better go look for our flower girl. Have you seen her anywhere? Oh, and the groomsmen, they’re-”

“In the room next door.” 

Dean ducks his head at Tessa’s smile, offering a sheepish one of his own. “Agh, sorry,” he says with a laugh. “I should stop and let you do your job.” 

Tessa hums as she reaches up to straighten his tie and smooth out his shirt. “Don’t apologize; you’re still the head planner. Though you can also trust us to handle this.” 

“Yeah,” he breathes and nods. “God, it’s so weird, being on the other side.” 

“I can imagine,” she concurs, pinning a boutonniere to his lapel. “But remember, you’re the star today. You can be the boss again when you’re back from your honeymoon.” 

“My honeymoon,” he repeats in a daze. It’s hard to believe that he’s actually here. 

Tessa goes on to tease him that their poor photographer will probably combust from how cute they are, given that Cas already makes their interns cry with the flowers and notes he sends to Dean’s office. He’s blushing but she pays no mind, continues to fuss over him until he’s ready, and Jo pokes her head in just in time to let them know that everyone’s waiting. 

“Hey, you look great,” she kisses his cheek. “We’ll see you in there. Cas is outside.” 

She beckons Tessa to follow before walking out ahead, giving Dean the chance to breathe and try his best to calm his nerves. His body thrums with excitement - the good kind of trepidation, the kind of butterflies that tend to come with first kisses and confessions of love. 

“Not chickening out, are you?” Jo whispers through an impish smile. 

Dean huffs an amused little noise and says “Not a chance” as they part ways. 

He comes to a pause when he spots Cas beside the double doors, standing there in his sharp, grey suit with both hands in his pockets, endearingly nervous. He paces across the floor, pulls out a hand to adjust his tie, and doesn’t notice Dean’s presence behind him until Dean ambles over and wraps his arms around his waist. 

“Dean,” he breathes out a laugh, moving his hands to cover Dean’s own. 

Dean’s lips curve against Cas’ shoulder and he murmurs “You okay?” like he’s not freaking out himself. 

“I am now,” Cas replies, turning around to face Dean properly. The kiss that follows is slow and intimate but Dean is breathless by the time Cas pulls away with a peck on his forehead. “Shall we?” Cas takes his hand, smiling like this is the only place he wishes to be. 

Dean glances down at their joined hands, suddenly overwhelmed by the rush of memories. All those moments he’d logged away - him and Cas at five, sixteen, twenty-four, and now. Now, he can imagine their future too, and the coming years they’ll spend together. 

“Yeah,” he takes a step forward, knowing that Cas will come with and not let go.

 

  


 

The reception had taken Dean the longest to plan. His job was almost a downside in that he’d seen so many beautiful events. But in the end, with help from his staff and input from Charlie, Sam, and Cas - and Judith, of course, who spared no advice after _Brides_ wanted an article - he arrived at a result that seems to delight his niece, which had really been his goal anyway.

“Uncle Cas!” Zoe exclaims, standing on her tiptoes to reach for a name card. She grins as Cas crouches down to her eye level and puts the card in her open palm. “I folded these.” 

Cas tracks her gaze to the tiny blue airplane, one of seventy-five that Jess and Zoe had folded together. This says ‘Sam’ on its wing in delicate, silver script and Cas takes it, his smile fond. 

“You did a wonderful job,” he tells her warmly, making her giggle and duck into his arms. She’s more than happy to let him pick her up and continue to carry her once he’s standing. 

“When can we have pie?” she wants to know, and Cas chuckles, kissing her hair. 

“Should we ask Uncle Dean?” he suggests, tipping his head toward Dean nearby, just as Dean approaches them and pretends not to have overheard their conversation. 

“Ask me what?”

Zoe immediately whips out her puppy dog eyes, a trick she clearly learned from Sam. “Could we have pie now, Uncle Dean?” She’s seen the mini pecan and cherry pies that Dean ordered from, of course, The Bun Also Rises. 

Dean laughs, “In an hour, sweetheart. Is that alright? Do you think you can wait?”  

He cradles Zoe’s hand and laughs again when she sighs and relents.

“Good, because I think it’s time for me and Uncle Cas to dance.” 

“Oh?” Cas quirks his lips. “Well, in that case I better go, princess. May I have a dance later?”

Zoe uncurls the fingers she had wrapped around Cas’ tie and smiles wide and sweet. “Okay.”

“Awesome.” Cas carefully lets her down, her little feet swinging until they touch the floor. They watch her run back to Jess before linking their fingers and walking to the center of the room. 

Everything quiets when the DJ announces it’s time for their first dance, but all Dean can focus on is Cas’ hand, firm and protective on his waist. They haven’t stood so close since the end of the ceremony, since they kissed to applause and some rascally whistling, and Cas, seeing his nervousness, leans in to murmur, low in his ear. “Remember the first time I played this song?” 

Dean smiles as the intro flows through the speakers. “Yeah, I do. You were such a sap.” 

Cas’ responding laugh is drowned out by the music, and Dean’s the only one who catches the soft, comforting rumble. “When he takes me in his arms, and speaks softly to me… I see life in pink,” Cas says. The lyrics are spoken, not sung, meant just for Dean to hear, and it’s like being narrated with a love letter as they sway to the steps that Gilda taught them.

“It’s him for me and me for him, for life,” Dean says. 

Cas smiles. “Your favorite part.”

Dean hums and kisses him. “My favorite part.”

 

  


 

_“He wore lots of socks and lived happily ever after,” Dean announces._

_Cas wriggles his toes, clothed in white - the teeth of a dinosaur - and moves in close until their knees bump and echoes, “And they lived happily ever after.”_

_Dean taps Cas’ foot with his. “What kinda socks do you want?”_  

_“Spider-Man ones,” Cas says seriously._  

_“I’ll buy them for you,” Dean promises, and feels his heart swell when Cas beams at him._  

_“I can make you sandwiches,” Cas declares._  

_“Not bologna.”_  

_“No. Never.”_  

_“Just peanut butter and jelly, or bananas,” Dean insists._  

_“Or apples?” Cas asks hopefully. Apples are his favorite, so Dean nods back._  

_“What about our names?” he crinkles his nose._  

_“What about them?” Cas blinks curiously._  

_“Well, my mom’s name was Campbell once, but it’s Winchester now ‘cause she got married.”_  

_“Oh,” Cas flops on his back. “I like Dean Winchester though.”_  

_“Me too,” Dean grins, delighted. “And I like yours. You don’t have to change it.”_  

_“You don’t have to change yours either,” Cas turns his head to mirror Dean’s smile._  

_Dean can’t quite explain the flutter in his stomach, which reminds him of the nights before his birthdays, or Christmas Eves when he’s too excited to sleep. But what he does know is that he has the coolest best friend in whole wide world, and being married is going to be awesome._  

_“I’m glad it’s you and not somebody mean.”_  

_Cas reaches for his hand to hold even though it’s sticky from eating watermelon earlier._  

_“Me too,” he replies sincerely, and Dean lies down beside him, their hands clasped tight._

 

  


 

“Dean,” Cas calls to him gently, hand nudging Dean’s shoulder and causing him to stir. 

“Mmph,” Dean mumbles back, burrowing deeper inside the sheets. “Ten more minutes,” he says grumpily, but Cas just laughs and kisses his cheek. 

“You’ve already slept for an extra hour. It’s time for breakfast.” He tugs at the sheets. 

Dean groans and turns to his side, glaring blearily up at his husband. “Should I remind you who it was that kept me up?” he grouses, except the accusation’s all for naught since Cas isn’t even fazed one bit. 

“I didn’t hear you complaining before,” Cas teases, bending down to kiss Dean slow and deep. It certainly wakes him up better than any raucous alarm ever could. 

Cas’ hands are on the bed, caging Dean inside his arms, and Dean’s fingers catch on his shirt, a soft tee that makes Dean huff. “Why’re you dressed?” he pulls Cas closer, sighing at each press of warm, chapped lips along his jaw. 

“I had to open the door for room service. I didn’t want to traumatize anyone.” 

“They’re gone now,” Dean tries to protest, but Cas kisses his nose and shifts him up to sit. 

“We’ll make time later, I promise,” Cas says, moving off the bed to return with a tray. He sets the meal down carefully over Dean’s lap and sits a foot away with a soft, soft smile. 

Dean, meanwhile, blinks down at his plate. “They’ve got… PB and J here?” 

“No,” Cas laughs fondly. “I brought that from home. I just ordered the bread.” 

“Cas…” Dean ducks his head, feeling silly for being so emotional over a sandwich. But this is far more than that, because Cas remembered after all these years, decided to surprise him on their honeymoon and Dean sniffs a little as he picks up a half.

“I can’t believe you cut the crusts off.” 

Cas hums. “You hate the crusts.”

Dean nods and takes a large bite, making happy noises at the taste of favorite raspberry jelly. “I bought socks for you, by the way. Did you see?” he asks. 

“Yes, I found them,” Cas stretches out his legs, so Dean can read the ‘A+ Husband’s on the tops of his feet. “You’re holding me to a really high standard.” 

Dean grins. “Mm, I think you’ll do just fine.”

Cas chuckles when Dean pulls him back and promises “I’ll try my best” into their next kiss.

**Author's Note:**

> [Tumblr Masterpost](http://puppycastiel.tumblr.com/post/132612262845) | [Art Masterpost](http://deadpai.tumblr.com/post/132612163746)
> 
> Thank you for reading! You can find me at [puppycastiel](http://puppycastiel.tumblr.com) on Tumblr ([leeshwrites](http://twitter.com/leeshwrites) on Twitter), and as always, please do leave me your kudos, comments, and love. :)


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